Brooklyn Turned Queen
by IHeartRace9
Summary: First story in the series All's Well That Ends Well. When a girl loses her courage to perform, she must turn to the newsies. She ends up under the control of the Brooklyn leader, Spot. But it's a lot more complicated then whether she likes, him or that hilarious Racetrack Higgins. No, there's a whole lot more, just like every story. :)
1. Songbird

**Brooklyn Turned Queen**

_By: Iheartrace9_

_Hey y'all. I know. I suck. I am so very sorry that I'm changing the beginning yet again. But I promise, this is the last time. Because I came up with that whole plot change, and series thing, I decided that I needed some more scenes in this chapter and the next, to fill them out, and give them some meat. I hope you like them; I think they are way better with them. I've decided to not just stick with Song's 1__st__ person perspective, and have added some scenes with other people's 3__rd__ person perspective as well. I think it makes it way more interesting (I get tired of Song sometimes). Anyways, please reread the whole thing (luckily it's only two chapters), and I promise no more redos. I will continue from here on out. Thank you all for reading! 3_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. Just Song and Josie._

* * *

"Good, very good girls. I think we'll call it a day."

The class dispersed all heading for their wall cubbies across the room, excitement in the air. Our big performance was on Saturday, and there was talk of nothing else. Chatter was nonstop as we changed out of our sweaty leotards and into our everyday clothes. My bun had come undone near the end of class, but I fixed it now, getting my long hair out of my face. It was better up and out of the way. It wasn't much to look at, after all. It was just one plain brown color. The only time that ever changed was in the summer, when the top of my head was streaked with gold highlights from the sun.

"Songbird! I am so excited for Saturday! I hope I don't get sick!" I smiled at Josie's worried face. We had cubbies right next to each other, so I knew her pretty well. And I knew she would be fine.

"You'll be fine," I told her. "Just make sure you keep hydrated." She nodded, and then smiled back at me, her eyes narrowing slyly.

"Hey, but _you're_ performin too, aintcha Song?" I shrugged, not showing how incredibly nervous I really was.

"Yeah," I replied. "So?"

"Aren't you afraid you're gonna mess up?" I shrugged again.

"Not especially," I lied. I was probably the most nervous out of all the girls here. "I kind of just don't think about it." Josie looked a little frustrated.

"How do you do that? It takes up every inch of my brain, at all times!" I laughed.

"I don't know, Josie. I just don't get nervous!" She sighed, rolling her eyes.

"Well fin, Miss I'm-So-Perfect-I-Don't-Even-Get-Nervous. Be that way." At first I thought she was mad, but then a grin broke out on her face. "I'll see you Saturday, alright? If I'm not here at least an hour before the show, you better come looking for me, to make sure I survived the night." I laughed and waved as she left. She was so funny.

I quickly gathered my last couple things and put them in my bag, before turning to find Medda, our instructor standing there.

"Hi, Medda." She smiled at me.

"Hello, my little songbird." I smiled at her nickname for me. She had called me that the first time I'd sung for her. She'd also said, that if I practiced hard enough, I might someday become _famous!_ Of course, she was probably just saying that to be nice, but a girl can dream, can't she? Especially since that is my dream. Singing. I don't really care if anyone knows my name or face really, just my voice. I want the world to remember my voice.

Medda waved a hand in front of my face. "Is anyone home? Songbird?" I blinked hard at the rush of air from her hand and she laughed. "Is someone dreaming about Saturday? Are you excited?" I gave her a big smile.

"I can't wait! This'll be my first time with an audience." Medda smiled brightly.

"I am sure you will leave them calling for an encore. Which, by the way, you probably should have ready, just in case." I hugged her.

"Thanks, Medda. Thanks for everything. You really are great." I wanted to get all my feelings across to her, about how really grateful I was to her for doing all she did. She'd been so kind to us girls for teaching us dance lessons in return for us singing every couple weeks or so, to fill out her show. It was practically charity.

Medda patted my head, a smile on her face. It was a nice moment, until my stomach had to go ruin it all. That just sent Medda into gales of laughter.

"Why don't you go down to Tibby's and get something to eat. And while you're at it, could you pick me up a sandwich?" I nodded, thoroughly embarrassed. "Oh, and if a Jack Kelly happens to be there, could you tell him I'd like to speak with him?" I smiled and nodded again. "Thank you, darling, I'm sorry for turning you into an errand boy… er… girl." I shook my head.

"No, it's fine! I love doing stuff for you!" Medda looked me over suspiciously. Then she smiled again.

"Even so, how about I buy you lunch? Here's two dollars. Get my sandwich, and you can have the rest of it." Before I could protest, she had me out the door, and on my way to Tibby's.

I'd never been to Tibby's before, and I had stupidly not asked Medda the way. I thought I might have passed it before, and I walked in the direction I thought it was. While I was walking I realized I had no idea what this 'Jack Kelly' looked like. Oh well, maybe next time.

It was a nice day out. With only a few clouds and a nice breeze, I wanted to sit outside all day. We rarely got sun and a breeze at the same time in New York. It was either broiling hot or freezing cold. Maybe I would eat my lunch outside. That is, if I could find Tibby's. I looked around as I tried to figure out where I was. I couldn't Great, I was lost. Just what I needed when I was getting Medda's lunch. I should've just asked her. I spotted a newsboy shouting out headlines a little ways down the street and I hurriedly approached him.

"Um… excuse me, but do you know how to get to Tibby's?" The boy turned to me and smilded.

"Do I? I only eat dere every day of da week. I'll be headin dere in bout five minutes. Can ya wait?" I nodded, immensely relieved that I would get to Tibby's after all. The boy sold a few more paper then turned back to me. He held out his hand.

"Ma name's Jack Kelly, or some people calls me Cowboy." I jumped in surprise. "You're Jack Kelly?" The boy smiled proudly. "Ya hoid of me?" I laughed at that.

"Well, sort of. It's just that Medda wanted me to tell you—"

"Ya know Medda?" I sighed inwardly and rolled my eyes. I did not like being interrupted.

"Yes, I do know Medda, and she told me to tell you that she'd like to talk to you." Jack nodded pleasantly. "Thanks fer da message… what was yer name again?" I smiled. I thought for a second before I answered.

"Some call me Songbird." Jack raised his eyebrow.

"And what do udders call you'se?" I frowned at him before replying, "A pain in the ass." Jack laughed at that one. "You'se alright, kid." I smirked up at him.

"Well, gee, thanks, I do try." He smiled again.

"Let's go. Da boys'll love youse. 'specially Race. You'll give him a run fer his money." I had no idea who he was talking about, but I did get the part that we were going to Tibby's now, so I followed.

The restaurant was packed with newsies. They all cheered when Jack walked in (don't ask, cause I don't know), and then looked curiously at me. Jack put an arm around my shoulders and loudly announced,

"So, dis is Songboid. She's one a Medda's goils." I heard a round of "Hi's", and "How ya doin?"s. I smiled, a little uncomfortably, and waved at them. Jack steered me over to a table that two guys were already sitting at. They seemed to be in a serious game of poker.

"Songboid, dat dere is Skittery." Jack pointed to one of the boys. The boy, Skittery, had a sour look on his face. "And dat—" he was cut off by the other boy.

"Da one and only Racetrack Higgins, at your soivice. What can I do fer ya?" I smuggled a laugh. I tilted my head up to Jack. "What a heartthrob." Jack laughed again.

"You'se should get a job doin dat." I looked at him confused. "Doing what?" He smiled. "Well, makin people laugh." I shrugged and sat down next to Skittery.

"Having a bad day?" It was a simple question, but Skittery glared at me.

"Hey kid, don't worry bout it." Racetrack pretended to whisper. "He's always in a bad mood." Now Racetrack was under Skittery's 'powerful' glare. A waiter brought my food right as Race yelled, "I win! Tree times in a row, Skits, when'll ya evah loin?" Skittery scowled and left the table. I tried not to smile, but it was hard when Race was grinning crazily at me. I assumed the stakes had been high.

"So," I said, "Are all these newsies from around here?" Race nodded, and suddenly got an evilly mischievous glint in his chocolate brown eyes. He turned to Jack quickly. "Jack, Susan's here." I had no idea who 'Susan' was, but Jack paled and tried to hide under our table.

"I'm not here." He whispered to Race and me. I looked at Racetrack, who was now squirming with amusement.

"Well now, who's dis? Ya finally get yaself a goil, did ya Race?" I turned at the hard voice. The boy behind me was probably about my height, and he was resting a golden tipped cane on the back of my chair. He had dirty blonde hair, and… amazing blue eyes. He caught me looking at him and he smirked. "How ya doin doll?" and he tipped his cabbie hat to make his point. And then I did something super embarrassing. I laughed. I know, it was terrible. But the way he was looking at me, with amusement and arrogance (is that even possible?), plus the idea of calling _me_ doll, was just too much. Race was laughing too. He stood up and came over to me.

"Oh, yeah, didn't ya hear Spot? Dis is me fiancé. Da weddin's on Thoisday." I almost fell out of my seat, which wasn't good because Jack was getting out from under the table. The boy, Spot I guess, looked strangely at Jack.

"Jackey-boy, what ya doin undah da table? Hidin from da weirdos here?" He gestured at Race and me, and Jack glared at Race.

"Dat was low, Higgins." Racetrack just laughed and gave me a high-five. Spot looked un-amused, and I wondered how many people were having bad days. Then Spot turned to look at me.

"Since ya 'fiance' doesn't seem ta know ya name, perhaps you'll tell me." I shrugged.

"He did tell you. My name is 'Race's Goil'." Spot rolled his eyes at me and turned to Jack.

"Ya got a real strange one Jack. Can she even sell a pape widout crackin a joke?" I stopped laughing.

"Oh, I'm not a newsie." Spot turned to me again, a frustrated look on his face.

"Someone bettah tell me yer name, doll, what yer doin here, and where ya stand wid da newsies." I glared at him. He didn't have to act all high and mighty!

"Fine, if you insist on knowing. My name is Songbird, I'm here is because I'm hungry, and I sing for Medda." Spot suddenly smirked. Okay, so it's not like I have anything against smirks, it's just arrogant smirks that bother me. Spot had an arrogant smirk on his face. I sighed impatiently. "What are you smirking at?" Spot pretended to look innocent.

"Oh nutin, just dat yer name's Songbird. Let's hear ya sing." I scowled deeply at him. The restaurant suddenly went very quiet. They had all heard what Spot said, eerily, and now they were all staring at me. And there was no damn way I was singing for them here.

I turned to Spot with a lot more confidence than I felt. "Sorry, but I have to leave now. I guess you'll just have to wait, and come to the Saturday night performance." I smiled sweetly and got up to leave. Spot snorted (I almost died, shudder), and Racetrack winked at me. I waved to Jack and walked out of Tibby's. Great. Now there was absolutely no way out of Saturday. I would have to perform. I really was excited, and I really wanted to, but I also was very nervous, and I really didn't want to. I'll probably mess up, and Medda will throw me out. No, stay positive. I have to think positive. I walked back to Medda's as quickly as I could.

* * *

Racetrack Higgins walked slowly back to the Newsboys Lodging House, oblivious to the noise around him. He was thinking. About a girl.

Songbird had walked into Tibby's, Jack's arm slung around her, a big smile on her face. She'd sat down at his table, and as soon as she'd said a word to him, Race knew he liked her. He didn't know quite what it was; she was funny, and didn't show Spot respect. She wasn't _really_ pretty, her beauties more subtle, like how she had a dimple in one cheek when she smiled. But those weren't it exactly. He just couldn't put his finger on it. But he smiled. He was so glad he had met her.

"'ey, Racetrack, whatcha tinkin about?" Kid Blink had fallen in step with Racetrack and Race blinked, his thoughts scattering, and quickly put on his poker face.

"Ah, nuttin. Some guy gave me a hot tip on thoity seven, and I'm tinkin bout if Ise gonna take it a not." He grinned like he didn't have a care in the world. Blink nodded, as if he was really interested, then changed the subject.

"So, dat goil, Song, saw she was talkin to ya in Tibby's." Race shrugged nonchalantaly.

"She was, till Spot came in. Did you see her sass dat boy." Blink laughed with Race.

"Well, Spot asks foah it. He struts round New York, like everybody knows 'is name." Race smiled.

"Apparently not." Blink grinned, the gap between his front teeth showing.

"So, you goin to Medda's Sataday night?" Race raised an eyebrow. He most definitely was.

"Are you?" Blink nodded.

"After da talk she gave Spot, I'se sure is. I hope she's as good as she says dough." Race resisted the urge to talk back to him, saying he was sure she was even better.

"Den I guess I'll go witcha." Blink smiled and clapped a hand on Race's shoulder.

"Alrighty, den. Medda's it is! Ise gonna see who else wants ta go. Latah, Race!" He ran ahead, and Racetrack lifted a hand.

"Latah." Race put his hands in his pockets, and meandered slowly throught the streets. How was he going to wait till Saturday to see her again?

* * *

When Songbird practically skipped from Tibby's, Spot was not pleased. That girl had shown him no respect. Less then respect. In fact, it was disrespect that she had more or less shoved in his face. And she had left with a smile on her face. Some of the boys were still laughing.

"Soya, Spot, ya goin to Medda's Sataday?" Race sat at his table, trying to control his laughter. Spot just looked at him.

"Yeah, I am. Ya gotta problem wit dat?" Race just shook his head, still snickering. Spot rolled his eyes and strode out of Tibby's. He was not going to stick around just to hear them laugh at him. That was not something Spot did.

Spot walked quickly back to Brooklyn, removing the girl from his thoughts. She wasn't that pretty, she thought she was funny at his expense, and she wasn't even a newsie. Spot wasted no time on her. He had bigger things to deal with. Namely Harlem.

Harlem and Brooklyn had always had a tough relationship. But lately it had gotten quite a bit more strained, when some Brookies had beat up a couple of Harlemites for selling in their territory. Both sides had officially apologized, but who were they kidding. They were both still was fuming that Harlem had the gall to send their newsies into Brooklyn to sell and then get upset when Brooklyn wasn't so welcoming. But, to avoid a newsie war, Spot hadn't pulverized Harlem's leader. He had wanted to, but he had controlled himself.

As Spot passed over the Brooklyn Bridge he grimaced. He needed to talk to Jack. Harlem was becoming a serious problem.

* * *

_How did you like the new scenes?! Did I get Race and Spot's characters down? I have so much planned for this story, and I can't wait for you to see where I'm going with it. Please leave me a review and tell me what you think of it. Thanks!_


	2. Performance

**Brooklyn Turned Queen**

_By: IheartRace9_

_Hey guys. Here's chapter two! I hope you like it! I'm really loving how Race is turning out. :D_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. Just Josie, Song, and Dice._

* * *

When I got back to Irving Hall, Medda accepted her sandwich gratefully.

"Did you see Jack?" I nodded and told her how I had met Jack. She laughed. She always does. I don't know how she does it either. I mean, if I laughed half as much as she did, I would never be able to sing. Thinking forward to Saturday, I didn't know if I was going to be able to sing as it was.

"Medda, I'm really nervous about Saturday." Medda looked at me and took my hand.

"If you weren't, I'd be worried. " She put her arm around me. "Come on. I think I can make you feel better." We walked to the stage. It was empty, and would be for the rest of the afternoon; I think Medda was going to practice some of her numbers alone. She positioned me in the center.

"Now," she whispered in my ear. "Imagine the audience, full, a sell-out. You are in a beautiful gown that sets off your eyes, and all the people you've ever liked are sitting in the front row cheering you on."

My eyes were closed and Medda's hands were running through my hair. "Your hair is sweeping over your shoulders in just the right way, and your diamond earrings catch the light." Her hands brushed my hair behind my year, and she said, "Now open your eyes, and sing from your heart." She moved away quickly, and off the stage. My eyes fluttered open to a packed audience. The cheering was in slow motion to my ears, and I opened my mouth and sang.

"_Don't tell me not to live,__  
__Just sit and putter,__  
__Life's candy and the sun's__  
__A ball of butter.__  
__Don't bring around a cloud__  
__To rain on my parade!__  
__Don't tell me not to fly-__  
__I've simply got to.__  
__If someone takes a spill,__  
__It's me and not you.__  
__Who told you you're allowed__  
__To rain on my parade!__  
__I'll march my band out,__  
__I'll beat my drum,__  
__And if I'm fanned out,__  
__Your turn at that, sir.__  
__At least I didn't fake it.__  
__Hat, sir, I guess I didn't make it! But whether I'm the rose__  
__Of sheer perfection,__  
__Or freckle on the nose__  
__Of life's complexion,__  
__The cinder or the shiny apple of its eye,__  
__I gotta fly once,__  
__I gotta try once,__  
__Only can die once, right, sir?__  
__Ooh, life is juicy,__  
__Juicy, and you see__  
__I gotta have my bite, sir!__  
__Get ready for me, love,_

_cause I'm a commer,  
I simply gotta march,  
My heart's a drummer.  
Don't bring around a cloud  
To rain on my parade!_

_I'm gonna live and live now,  
Get what I want-I know how, One roll for the whole show bang,  
One throw, that bell will go clang,  
Eye on the target and wham  
One shot, one gun shot, and BAM  
Hey, Mister Armstein,  
Here I am!  
I'll march my band out,  
I will beat my drum,  
And if I'm fanned out,  
Your turn at bat, sir,  
At least I didn't fake it.  
Hat, sir, I guess I didn't make it.  
Get ready for me, love,  
'cause I'm a commer,  
I simply gotta march,  
My heart's a drummer. Nobody, no nobody, Is gonnaaaaa raiiiiiin on myyyyyyyy paraaaaaaaaade!"_

I heard someone clapping. My image of the audience fell away, except for one person near the back. I gaped at him as he walked through the empty chairs and up the stairs onto the stage.

"Jack, when did you come in?" Jack shrugged.

"Well, you'se told me Medda wanted to see me." I nodded, understanding, and I felt myself blush. Had Jack heard me singing? Was he going to laugh at me behind my back, along with Spot, and Skittery, and Racetrack, and all the other newsies?

"Hey, kid, you'se was good. Real good." I looked up, my worries coming to a peak. Was he being sarcastic?

"You better not be playing with—" Jack cut me off.

"Ya definitely oined yer name." I smiled gratefully at him.

"Thanks Jack. That means a lot to me." Jack smiled down at me looking pleased. Then he started probing the auditorium looking all around.

"Ya know where Medda is?" I glanced around to see that she was gone. She must have left while I was singing. I shrugged at Jack and said, "Why ask me? Do I look like her mother?" Jack snickered.

"As a mattah of fact—", I playfully hit him.

"Don't answer that." He grinned and headed backstage.

"I'se goin ta look fer Medda. See ya Sataday kid." He waved and left the auditorium. I sat down my mind going back to my singing. How did Medda do that? She just put an image in my brain and it stayed there. The audience had really been there. I could hear them cheering, and I could see them waving their arms, and I could smell their different smells. And I sang. I didn't mess up either. I smiled, confidence brewing inside me. I couldn't wait till Saturday.

* * *

"Hey, Race, ya comin?"

Racetrack ran a comb through his hair one last time, and quickly put his hat on. "Ise comin," he yelled down the stairs. He buttoned his vest as ran through the bunkroom.

"What took youse so long?" Blink was standing at the door. The others had gone on ahead.

"My vest was givin me trouble," Race made up. Blink raised his eyebrows, but Race ran out the door. "C'mon, we'se gonna be late!" Blink caught up to him, and then slowed his long strides to meet Race's shorter ones.

"So, ya excited?" Race jumped at his voice, but immediately laughed it off.

"A course! We'se going to Medda's." Blink was persistent though.

"I meant about seein Song, well, sing." Race had to play it cool. He did not want a rumor going around about him and Song.

"Well yeah, aren't youse? Poisanally, I'd be exited to hear any goil sing, as long as dey sound good." Blink smiled and nodded. He wanted to ask more, but they'd caught up with the other newsies and Race immediately started talking to them.

"'ey, Cowboy, I'm needin some pokah. Ya tink we can schedule a game wit Brooklyn after da concert?" Jack nodded.

"I'll talk ta Spot when we gets dere. He's supposed ta meet us. Maybe dis weekend." Race nodded, relieved that he'd been able to switch subjects. He was annoyed and amused at Blink. He was amused that even through his poker face, Blink was probably seeing right through him, at least in concern of girls. But he was also annoyed. He did not like Blink asking so many questions. He wasn't ready for them, even if he wanted to tell Blink. He didn't want to jump to any conclusions, and then find out that Song was engaged or something. That would be too embarrasing. He needed to find out a little more about her, and her feelings, before sharing anything. Luckily, he smiled, he was seeing her tonight.

Race's heart beat a little faster, and Race tried to keep calm. He hoped she did well.

* * *

"I'll be back right afta da concert, aright? Dice, ya in charge til I get back." Dice, Spot's second-in-command nodded, and Spot walked out the door of his lodging house. He walked quickly through Brooklyn, trying to hurry. He'd had a late start, and he was supposed to meeting a few of the Manhattan boys outside the theatre.

Spot glared at some drunk men as he walked by a bar. He did not have time for a fight tonight, otherwise he'd miss a certain singer. She'd better be worth it too, Spot thought. He really shouldn't be going, leaving his boys without there leader, not at this kind of time, but he'd already said he would, and he couldn't let Song get away with that smirk she'd had on her face when she left the restaurant.

Still, Spot almost turned back. He just had this feeling. Some of his birdies had been reporting in the last couple of days, of Harlem, doing something secretive. Not all of the newsies were selling. The newsies that were, had more papes to sell. Like they were selling for others who couldn't. Spot was very suspicious, and was in no inclination to trust any of the excuses Harlem had sent back to him. He needed to talk to Jack. He feared that the newsies were in for something big.

* * *

I ran my hand through my hair in frustration. My hair was being really frustrating. Why couldn't it look nice, just for tonight? I threw my brush against the wall in a sudden surge of anger. This was my special night, the first night I would sing, and my hair was going to be a disaster. Suddenly the door flew open.

"What was that noise? Are you alright?" I smiled at Medda through watery eyes. I was so mad at myself for crying over my hair. Seriously? The upset look she had on her face immediately changed to a worried one. "Songbird, what's the matter?" I shook my head, trying not to cry, but a tear slipped down my cheek. I brushed it away, more angry at myself. It's just hair. Forget about it! I smiled again at Medda, this time with a little more control.

"It's just my hair. It sometimes gets a little trying." Medda looked at me as if she thought that wasn't all, which made me feel worse, but she kept quiet. She didn't say a word while she did my hair. When she was finished I wondered why she didn't have a job doing people's hair. It was pinned up, but with curls falling down around my face. It looked nothing like my real hair. If I had seen it on anyone else, I would've thought it was a wig. But it wasn't. And it was beautiful.

Medda walked to the door and then turned. "You are on in ten minutes. I know you will do amazing, but listen to me." She looked at me hard. "If you ever need to talk, just come to me. I want to help you." She smiled at me and left the room, quietly shutting the door behind me.

After Medda went out of the room I looked in the mirror. My hair was perfect, my makeup was fine, my dress was gorgeous, and then there was me. Smile, I told myself. You have to look happy! I put my heels on, and I stood up. I straightened out my deep blue dress and sang a few scales. I thought about what Medda had shown me the other day, and I just _thought_ confidence. It was emblazoned into my brain. There was nothing that was going to ruin tonight. Even if they had to close their eyes to listen. I didn't care about me, I just cared about my voice. That was my motto. 'It's the voice, not the looks that matter.'

I walked down the hall to the stage, and I took deep breaths. Josie was just finishing up the opening song with huge flourish, and the audience was just loving her. As she ended her song with a big, "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!," I told myself there was nothing that could go wrong. Josie ran offstage and gave me a hug and a grin.

"You can do it," she whispered.

I stepped slowly onto the left side of the stage and waited for my music to begin. My heart beat was going so fast, and I'd already started sweating. As I waited, I tried to take my mind off my solo and looked out to the audience. It was almost full. I scanned the people looking for the newsies, and I almost gave up hope when I saw them creeping in near the front. I saw Jack leading Spot, Skittery, Race, and a few other guys into the chairs. Jack waved at me, and Race gave me two big thumbs up. I smiled brightly at them, faking my cheerfulness right as my music began. Medda had given me this song, saying it would build my confidence while I sang. I crossed my arms above me, hoping she was right, and began to sing.

"_Smile though your heart is aching__  
__Smile even though it's breaking__  
__When there are clouds in the sky__  
__You'll get by__  
__If you Smile through your pain and sorrow__  
__Smile and maybe tomorrow__  
__You'll see the sun come shining through__  
__For you."_

As I did my simple dance routine that went along with the song, I couldn't help but smile, no matter how cliché that sounds. Everything was going perfect. I couldn't believe it. Maybe I should stop being so pessimistic.

"_Light up your face with gladness__  
__Hide every trace of sadness__  
__Although a tear may be ever so near__  
__That's the time you must keep on trying__  
__Smile- What's the use of crying__  
__You'll find that life is still worthwhile__  
__If you just smile._

_That's the time you must keep on trying,  
Smile- What's the use of crying  
You'll find that life is still worthwhile  
If you just smile."_

I paused in my singing, the piano playing quietly. I did a slow pirouette, and swept low to the audience. There was a hush over the audience, and I felt like I could go on forever. That was when I heard a cry from the audience that almost made me stumble.

"Get off the stage! You sound like my old granny!" I looked into the crowd, trying to find the offender, but had to stop when my cue to come back in singing arrived. I tried to put a grin on my face as I sang,

_"Smile though your heart is aching__  
__Smile Even though it's breaking__  
__When there are clouds in the sky- You'll get by—_

"Who taught her to sing? She sounds terrible! And she's not even pretty! Get off the stage girly!" I turned to the man in the front row who had just shouted the nasty words. His friends started shouting too. They started booing, and as I tried to come back in a tear slipped down my cheek. I was hopeless.

_"That's the time you must keep on trying__  
__Smile- What's the use of crying—_

I was suddenly hit by something hard in the stomach. Something wet spilled all over my dress. Whiskey. The man in the front row was laughing hard.

"You just said you shouldn't cry and you are! What are you, a baby! Ha!" That was when I ran.

I ran off the stage, the man's laugh echoing inside my head. I ran out of Irving Hall, my dress still sopped with alcohol, the breeze chilling me. I ran, trying to outrun my tears. Outrun my fears. Outrun everything. It was all ruined. I was a failure. How could I have thought that I could sing? The audience was probably sitting in Irving Hall laughing their heads off at how terrible I was. And Medda. What would Medda think? She would be so ashamed, and after all she did to help me. I felt terrible. Everything was my fault. I thought about how I had been mad about my hair earlier. I was so stupid sometimes. Actually I was stupid all the time. Man, Spot Conlon must be having a laugh now. The newsies! Oh, how they must be snickering. They must think that it was some sort of joke. Spot would have that smug look on his face, and Race would look confused for a minute, but then crack some joke. And Jack. I wonder what Jack would think. Oh well, it didn't matter anymore. I didn't know anything. That is I didn't know anything except that I sucked.

I had been walking for a while when the last two lines of the song I'd been singing came into my mind. The ones that had been cut off by the whiskey.  
_  
__"You'll find that life is still worthwhile__  
__If you just smile."_

Really, my life wasn't over. Just my singing life was. I wasn't going back to Irving Hall. That much was for sure. But I needed someone. I needed help. But who would?

Jack! I was pretty sure he would. After all, he seemed like he was my friend. But, no, then I'd have to meet up with the Manhattan gang. That was one thing I could not handle. After all that had just happened, I just couldn't. I really cared about what they thought, and I didn't want to see their disappointment. I mulled over my situation for a little while more, before I finally decided on my only choice. If I could humble myself it just might work. I didn't care what he thought, and he was practically the only person I knew, that I felt that way about. I'd have to go to Spot Conlon.

As I walked along the alleyways I attracted quite a few stares. My hair was a mess after all that running, my dress was wet and smelly, and my face didn't help the situation either. My plan was to find a newsie that I didn't know and ask him if he knew where Spot Conlon lived. That shouldn't be too hard. Except, oh let me see, it was a Saturday evening. It was probably the absolute worst night to have the disaster of your life on. Ugh. Just my luck. And anyways, Spot was probably still at Irving Hall. I would just have to camp the night out. And that was going to be fun to do, especially since I had nothing except the stupid dress I had on.

I settled down behind some crates, in an empty alleyway, and laid my head against my knees. I was not a good fighter in the least. Actually, if it came down to it, my fighting skills were basically, go crazy, biting, scratching, and all the other stuff. I'd never thrown a punch in my life. So, hopefully, though with my luck who knew, I wouldn't get any late night visitors. I didn't want to have to scream after all the singing I'd been doing lately. I sighed inwardly and thought about what had just happened. It was over. I was never going to sing again. That was that.

* * *

Racetrack gasped when Songbird ran off the stage. What had just happened? She'd been singing, her voice so very sweet, when all of the sudden there'd been some shouting from the front. Then something had been thrown at her and Song had fallen over. After that she'd ran. Race had jumped up in protest, when he'd seen the beer chucked at her. He wanted to smash the heads of the dumbasses responsible for that. He looked around, finally spotting them. He jostled through the crowd, his friends voices behind him.

"Excuze me, but, just whadaya think youse doin?" Race had reached the two men, who were completely drunk, laughing their heads off, and downing more alcohol. They looked up when Race spoke, and saw a pissed italian, arms crossed, and a glare that could kill on his face. But they just laughed some more.

"We don't answer to _kids_, shortie." Race could feel the anger boil inside of him. He'd had enough of these jerks.

"Ya gonna apologize for trowin dat beer at da poor girl, or ya gonna be sorry." The men laughed some more and one of them stood.

"Turn around, and go back to ya seat, boy. It ain't ya business." Race clenched his fists.

"Actually, it is." He swung his fist upwards, surprising the man, who fell backwards with a yell. The other man's face changed from drunken laughter, to drunken rage. He stood up, glaring and said, "Aright, kid, you asked for it." He swung a punch at Race, who ducked and tried to throw his own fist. The man, though drunk, caught it with a sneer.

"Nice try." He started to aim his next punch at Race's nose when someone ordered him to stop. The man, startled, looked behind Race, to see the other newsies standing there, fists at the ready. Spot stepped forward, an air of superiorty around him, and said, "Put the _kid_ down." Race rolled his eyes. Even when rescuing him, Spot never failed to insult him.

"No." Spot gave a slight nod, and it was over after that. Jack and Skittery took down Race's captor, and Blink held the other one.

"Get out, and stay out." The men ran, Blink grinned.

"We showed dem." Race smiled slightly, until he remembered Song.

"Guys, we gotta find 'er."

* * *

Spot trudged into his lodging house very late. He didn't expect to find anyone awake, but Dice sat there, cigarette lit, waiting for him.

"So, not too late?" Spot rolled his eyes.

"I got held up, aright?" Dice raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"A goil went missin." Dice nodded, as if this was no surprise.

"Ya find 'er?" Spot shook his head. "Dat sucks." Spot shrugged.

"Not my problem. I got enough of dose." Dice laughed at the grim joke.

"Dice, you should go ta bed. Early mornin tomorrow, as usual." Dice nodded and left without another word. Spot climbed the stairs to his room, his body showing a little more wear, now that no one was watching. He was beat. He'd went to go see some girl sing, and she had to go missing. And then, Race had to go pick a fight with some drunks, and then they had to go find her. But, then she didn't want to be found. The irresponsible girl. It was very late when they'd finally decided they'd have to wait till tomorrow to continue the search. Spot was more then happy to go.

And after all that, he'd never even gotten to talk to Cowboy. He punched the wall. That female was really starting to annoy him. She was just a selfish attention-seeker, and Spot didn't want to have anything more to do with her.

* * *

_Soooooooo, there's chapter two! Don't know when the next one will be up, but I'll try to make it soon. I think it will be though, cuz I'm getting really into writing this, now that's it not just all Song. __ Please leave me a review if you have any comments, or critisicm, or suggestions! Thanx!_


	3. Searching

**Brooklyn Turned Queen**

_By: IHeartRace9_

_Hey guys. __ I hope you liked my last two redos. Just in case some of you didn't get the memo, I rewrote the last two chapters and added some scenes, so it is essential for you to go back and read them.__ But moving on. This next one should be pretty good. A lot more Spot. *everyone cheers* :D Anyways, sorry for all the perfectionism attacks.*sheepish grin* I promise I won't do that again till after I finish it. _

_Disclaimer: Don't own Newsies. But I do own Song, Dice, Butterfly, and Pest._

* * *

I woke up the next morning to someone poking my side. I wish I could say that I had leapt up, my fists at the ready, but in reality I just groaned and tried to turn over. Except that that was impossible. I was sitting on my rear, my head against my knees, so when I tried to turn over, I just hit wall. I heard someone laughing and I slowly opened my eyes. A little boy, maybe around seven or eight, was sitting next to me, giggling. I looked at him with sleepy eyes and grumpily said, "Who the hell are you?"

The boy stuck out his hand amiably and replied, "I'se Pest, on accounta everyone sayin I'se annoyin. Who a you'se?" The boy was smiling, like nothing in the world mattered except knowing my name. As I was about to say 'Songbird' I stopped myself. That couldn't be my name anymore. I needed a new one. In fact, this little boy could maybe help me. A lot. I took the boy by his shoulders.

"Pest, I need your help. You seem like a nice trusting fellow. Can I trust you?" The boy nodded vigorously. I smiled brightly at him. "Good. First of all, are you a newsie?" The boy nodded again.

"I'se from Brooklyn." He added helpfully. This was getting better and better.

"Pest," I began again. "How does someone join the newsies?" He looked confused for a moment and then said, "Anyone can, all ya gotta do, is buy some papes at da distribution centah, and den ya sell dem. Den ya sleep at da newsies lodgin house, dat is, if ya don't have a family." I was confused.

"Wait, what's a newsie lodging house?" Pest looked wondrously at me. "Ya don't know what da LH is?" He shook his head in disbelief. "Kay, da LH is da place where da newsies who don't have a home sleep. Most lodgin houses ya have ta pay ta live in, but in Brooklyn dere's no managah, so it's free. Dat's where I'se live. Spot is da leadah dere." My ears perked up at Spot's name. Spot was a leader? Well, that would explain why he was so arrogant.

I tried to contain my smile as I asked, "Do you know where I could get some boy clothes that would fit me?" The boy smiled and said, "Ya got money?" I shook my head slowly. I had left everything at Irving Hall. He grinned wickedly.

"Den we'se gotta steal 'em."

* * *

Racetrack was worried. Sick. He had barely met the girl, and he was already freaking out. They'd spent practically the whole night looking for her, and when Spot finally opted out, the others had decided to turn in as well. Race hadn't agreed, but he didn't want to seem too anxious. He still hadn't gotten to talk to her. He thought he'd done himself in with the attack the drunk guys card, but he really hadn't cared at that point. He'd been so mad.

"'ey, Jack, ya ready?" Jack was sitting on a bottom bunk, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. They'd all been up way late last night, and Jack was really the worse for wear. He slowly got up, a yawn overtaking him, and Race put a hand on his shoulder.

"Jack, maybe youse should stay heah." Jack shook his adamantly. He was the leader of the Manhattan newsies, after all. He was going with them. Skittery came up from behind him, pulling his suspenders over his pink johns.

"Ya think we can find 'er Jack?" Jack gave Skits a sleepy glare and said, "A course. But we gotta start lookin." He stumbled down the stairs, Race, Skittery, and Blink following. They started near the theatre, and searched through alleys all throughout Manahatten.

It was almost lunchtime when Race saw her. She was coming out of some tailor's store; O'Malley's or something.

"Song!" She was running at top speed out of the store, down the road, and into an alley, all in her white shift. Worried as he was, Race couldn't help but snicker at the sight. He wanted to know the story behind that. "Guys," he yelled. "I saw 'er. C'mon!"

* * *

"Spot, Buttahfly's back." Dice leaned forward, saying it again, catching Spot's attention. "She looks like she gots some news." Spot got up, and strode forward. He took the young girl aside.

"Buttahfly. What'd ya find out?" The small 9 or 10 year old girl, a little out of breath, nodded, showing she had some important news.

"Spot. Deyse buildin sumtin. Da lodgin house. Deyse turnin it inta sumtin moah. No one in Harlem is even talkin bout it. It's some big secret." Spot's brow furrowed. What the hell was Harlem doing? He nodded his thanks to Butterfly, who ran off, then went and sat back down next to Dice.

"That sounds fun. Newsies buildahs? I wondah what deir buildin." Spot shrugged and looked straight at Dice.

"Looks like we'se got to find out." Dice smirked, and they started planning.

* * *

Stealing clothes is not a fun thing to do. If you've ever tried, then you know what I mean. Pest kept coming up with "great" ideas such as, "You'se go in da shop, tell da tailah ya want him ta make ya "brudder" some clothes. Tell him ya brudder's da same size as you. Den when he's done, run out of da shop widout payin." I had to tell him nicely, that it would probably not work, because I would be on a stool with probably a bunch of pins still in the clothes. It wouldn't be that hard to catch me. We finally decided that we were going to steal the tailor's ad.

His window display was a pair of dirty and holey trousers and an old shirt on the left. Those were the clothes that we were going to steal. On the right were a pair of trousers and a shirt that were almost exactly the same except they didn't have any dirt on them, and they didn't have any holes. In the middle was a sign that said,

'O'Malley can fix any piece of clothing, no matter how big the hole, or how large the stain.'

This is how the plan went. I walked in the store and right up to the tailor. While I was distracting him, asking him if he could fix my dress, Pest snuck in, took the clothing, and snuck out. It all worked perfectly, except then the tailor was insistent on fixing my dress. Before I knew it, my dress was off and I was standing in my short shift in the back of the shop. I tried to tell him that I didn't have any money, but he didn't seem to hear me. At least he pretended he couldn't. He seemed too happy to be working on such a 'nice' dress. I decided in a moment. I wasn't staying here any longer.

I said quickly, "I'll be back later to pick up the dress!" and I ran out of the store. In my shift. In the middle of the day. Brilliant. I was running, looking for Pest, when I heard the voice. It sounded just like Race. My head turned, and I gaped momentarily. What was he doing here? Completely mortified, I pulled Pest into an alley, and down a couple more, until I was pretty sure we'd lost him. Pest handed me the clothes, and I put them on quickly, while Pest turned away politely. I was holding my shift in my hands while Pest looked me over when he said, "You need a hat. Let's go!" And that was when he decided to steal a hat for me.

So, after snatching a hat off a hatstand nearby, Pest and I ducked into yet another alley. After putting my hair up into my new hat, smearing some dirt onto my face, and practicing a more boyish walk, Pest finally said I was ready to masquerade as a boy. He said I looked like I was a fourteen or fifteen year old boy. So far, everything was going great. On our way to Brooklyn, Pest gave me all the tips he could think of, such as, "Don't annoy Spot!" and "Spot is sometimes a liddle annoyin, but don't fight, contradict, or embarrass him, or it might be da last ting ya evah do." As we walked I couldn't help but wonder, what kind of person Spot was. I had said a few things to him at Tibby's, and he had seen me sing… moving on… but I was a new person. Speaking of new, I needed a new name.

"Pest, do all newsies have nicknames like yours?" Pest nodded. He said, "We all do, 'cept sometimes some of da newer ones don't, but dey always get named by someone. Dat's what happened to me. Spot gave me my name." He looked very proud. I decided, comparing to Pest's name that I wanted to have a name before I met Spot. After I said that to Pest, he grinned. "Whatdaya like? Do ya like da watah, or da sun, or beer, or—" I cut him off.

"I get the idea." I thought about it for a few minutes. I was starting a new life, so I could like whatever I wanted to like. I looked down at Pest. "What do newsies do besides working?" He shrugged his small shoulders.

"Fight, swim, play cards." I snapped my fingers. "That's it! Pest, meet Cards." I bowed dramatically at him. Pest laughed. Everyone I knew seemed to do it a lot. Crossing the Brooklyn Bridge I hated, for I found out how much I hate bridges. It isn't so much the height, it's just the knowledge that I'm standing on some material way above water and rocks. And air. *shudder*.

Anyways, after we crossed, and I had managed to get myself under control from the bridge, we ran into two tall newsies. Their arms were crossed, and they glared at Pest.

"Who's dat?" They stared pointedly at me.

Pest smiled broadly and said, "Dis here's Cards. I'se just takin him to Spot, cause 'e wants to be a newsie." The two boys grumbled but they let us pass. I could feet their eyes burning into me as we walked away. About ten minutes later we reached the lodging house. It was worn. As we walked up the steps I wondered at all the rich people who wouldn't spend a little money to fix this place up.

The lodging house was crowded. Tons of boys were sitting around all over. Some were talking, some were playing cards, some were eating, and some were even sleeping, though I didn't know how with all the noise. The noise, which had been roaring when I first came in, had now dwindled down to a whisper. They all looked at me. I just _love_ being looked at. Especially when I'm pretending to be a boy, and hoping that none of these boys had been at Irving Hall and if they had, hoping that they didn't recognize me. There was an awkward silence for a moment until Pest spoke up.

"Hey, guys, dis is Cards. He wants ta be a newsie. Where's Spot. We'se gotta talk ta 'im."

A voice from behind us suddenly said, "'e's right 'ere." I whirled around, almost stumbling, and was eye to eye with the Brooklyn leader. He looked me right in the eye, like he was searching me. Trying to figure me out. I stared right back at him, not letting him think he was better than me, and furiously hoping that he did not recognize me. Finally he nodded. Then he did the most revolting thing I've ever known. He spit in his hand and held it out. I looked at his hand in disgust. But when I glanced at Pest, he was nodding vigorously. So playing the boy, I spit into my hand, and swiftly shook Spot's hand. He smirked. That arrogant smirk. And then, just like that, the tension was broken, and everyone went back to what they'd been doing. Spot brushed past me, motioning for me to follow him. I waved to Pest, and nervously followed Spot up the stairs of the lodging house. I followed him all the way up to the roof. He didn't say a word to me, the whole three two flights. After I'd closed the door behind me, he turned to me slowly. He looked me over for what seemed like forever before I finally asked,

"Are you really going to stare at me all day?" Spot seemed to come out of his own world, but he managed a half smirk.

"Nah, I was jus tryin ta figur out what ya doin 'ere, Songbird? Ya friends a worried sick bout you." I swore violently. Of all the most inconsiderate jerks. Couldn't he at least pretend he didn't recognize me?

I glared at him and said,"My name is _Cards_, if you please." Spot raised an eyebrow.

"Is dat so?" I rolled my eyes in exasperation. Why did he have to be so frustrating? I walked over to him, where he stood leaning on his cane.

"Just tell me whether you're kicking me out or not." We stood there, as the sun sunk lower in the sky, just looking at each other.

He finally said quietly, "What gave ya da idea I was gonna kick you'se out, _Cards_?" He drawled my new name, and I wanted to punch him. He was going to enjoy himself. "All I'se is wonderin now, is why ya pretendin ta be a boy. Anyone wid half a brain, can tell you'se a goil." I snorted, knowing he was lying. I turned towards the door, good and ready to leave when Spot spoke yet again. "Dey all know." I whirled around and stared at him. He smiled that egotistical smile of his. "If only you'se was down dere now, you'd here all da interestin remarks dey're makin. Dey've prolly made up some curious theories by now." He walked past me and opened the door. "If I was you'se, I'd let my hair down, and deal wid da terrible fact dat I'm a goil." He bowed 'gentlemanly' and smirked once again. I scowled at him and stormed down the stairs, all the way hearing Spot's amused laughter.

On the second floor I saw a washroom, and I slipped inside it to wait till Spot had passed. As I was waiting I looked in the mirror. And I realized Spot had been right. I really didn't look like a boy. My stature was too dancer like; old habits die hard. I quickly snatched the hat off my head and my tangled hair tumbled down. I tried to brush it with my fingers, and then pulled it back into a messy braid. Boy did I look comical. I sighed, very annoyed at my position, and walked back down the stairs. Some of the boys raised eyebrows when I entered, my braid confirming their theories. But thankfully, no one said anything. I settled down in a corner of the room and just sat there thinking. And time flew by. Before I knew it, all the boys were getting up and heading up stairs. I saw Spot in the thicket and he nodded, showing that I should come along. We reached a room full of bunks and Spot pointed to an empty one. I nodded to show my thanks and quickly laid down on the bed. I got under my thin blanket and closed my eyes. Boy did I have a _lot_ to look forward to.

* * *

"Damn dat goil!"

The Manhattan search newsies were pulling on their pants the next morning, once again rubbing sleep out of their eyes.

Race knew Song had seen him. She had turned bright red, maybe because she was in her shift, and ran. At first, Race had thought she was just popping into an alley to put some clothes on, but he and the boys had searched everywhere when she didn't come out. No luck. She had disappeared again.

"Cowboy! Cowboy!" A very small girl had run into the bunkroom, and all the boys ran for cover. Most were only half dressed, some just in their underwear. "I needa talk ta Cowboy!"

Jack stepped forward, and took the girl out of the room. Race followed him.

"Spot says ta tell ya 'e 'as 'er." Jack and Race's eyebrows both shot up. Race moved forward taking her by her shoulders.

"What? Where'd he find 'er, Buttahfly?" The girl shrugged him off before she continued.

"She came ta him. She wants ta be a newsie." Both boys were stunned. Jack eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"Yeah, well, why didn'tche come 'ere den? She's got moah friends here, den Brooklyn." Butterfly shrugged.

"She hasn't said." Race crossed his arms over his chest.

"Well, we bettah go ask 'er, right Jack?" Jack nodded, but Butterfly shook her head.

"Spot says ta stay away. 'e wants ta deal widda goil alone." Race scowled looking at Jack for help. Spot couldn't do that to him! He needed to see her again! But Jack just looked shocked.

"Well, aright den. Seems kinda strange dough." Butterfly just looked at him. "Aright, aright, we'll stay out." Butterfly nodded, satisfied, and ran out the door. Jack turned around sighing, rolling his eyes, tired of the entire subject. Race on the otherhand was not.

"Jack! Spot can't do dat!" Jack looked at him, a little annoyed.

"Race, Spot can do whatever he damn well pleases in Brooklyn. It's his territory. And unless ya wanna go ta newsie war, then ya bettah listen ta 'im. Ya undahstand? Song obviously liked Spot moah den us, so we just gotta deal wid it." Race glared at him.

"Yeah, yeah, Ise undahstand." Jack turned away, cupping some water and splashing it on his face. He was obviously hurt that Song had gone to Brooklyn, not Manhattan, and Race decided to drop the subject around him. "I undahstands dat Brooklyn is bein quite rude," he muttered to himself, and stormed out of the lodging house.

* * *

Spot sat in his room smoking up a storm. He hadn't slept a wink, and it was near time to get the boys up. Everything was happening all at once. First Harlem, and now the goil. She'd shown up at his place. Brooklyn! What da hell! In one sense he was interested in seein what she was planning on doin. She'd nevah been on da streets, he was pretty sure, so he was wonderin how she was goin to do sellin papes.

But in another sense he was mad. How dare that girl just wander around New York, not caring that a bunch of people were worried about her. As soon as she'd come, Spot had sent Butterfly over with the news, telling the boys she was safe. But being the nice guy that he was, he had seen that Song, sorry, Cards, did not want to have a meeting with the Manhattan newsies, so he'd told Butterfly to tell the others, to keep away. Hopefully they didn't take that too badly. He'd tell Jack what was up when he went to see him.

"Ya nevah slept at all, didja?" Dice walked into the room and sat down next to him. Spot passed him the cigar and Dice took a long drag, then handed it back. Dice had been Spot's second as long as Spot had been leader. Dice got away with more than all the other Brooklyn boys did put together.

"So, nice goil." Spot scowled and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, no kiddin." Dice smirked and then sat up straighter.

"Hey, how much you willin ta bet she's nevah even had 'er foist kiss?" Spot raised an eyebrow. He really hadn't thought about that. But of course Dice had.

"I dunno. She probably hasn't, the poor sheltered thing." They shared a laugh, and then quieted down again, thinking.

"'ey Spot, you wanna take a bet?" Spot raised an eyebrow. Dice was always ready for a bet. Him and Racetrack…

"Depends on da bet, Dice." Dice smirked and shrugged nonchalantly.

"Ah ya know, nuttin too hard. Just da new goil. Ya think ya can do it?" Spot again raised his eyebrow.

"Do da new goil?" Dice nodded.

"How much you wanna put on da table?" Spot shook his head and smirked.

"Nuttin. This'll be too easy. Ise just gonna do this fa fun. Foah distraction's sake ya could say." Dice lips tugged upwards and nodded.

"Let's see it den."

* * *

_AHHHH! Spot's gonna try and get her! What's Race gonna do about it? And will Song fall for Spot's act? Next chapter should be up soon. I'm like on a writing roll with this story. Please please please, leave me a review. Let me know what you like and don't. *puppy dog eyes* Thanx! 3_


	4. Found

**Bird Turned Queen**

_By: IHeartRace9_

_Hey y'all. Hope you liked the last chapter :D I know, I know. I'm sorry all you Spot fans, but you know how Spot is. He can't resist a challenge, and he thinks every girl in all of New York wants ta be wid 'im. Am I right? :P Well, we'll find out. I'm loving Dice more and more, but let me know what you think of my OCs. Btw, I have put pictures on my profile of all of my characters… So you should check them out. Dice is seriously exactly how I imagined him. Also, I found a pic of Race and Skittery that a) I'd never seen before, and b) really made want to write a SkRace story. __ You guys should make sure to go check out all my pics in my profile._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. I do own Song, Dice, Butterfly, and Pest._

* * *

I woke up at the sound of someone jumping off the bunk above me, and tumbling to the floor. I slowly opened my eyes to find the room empty. I flung myself out of bed. Everyone was up. I must have slept late! Oh great, first day and I've already failed. I quickly went to the window to see if they were around and noticed that it was barely dawn. I knew the newsies got up early, but _this _early? I shook my head hoping that it was some kind of weird mistake. I rushed to the washroom, splashed my face with ice cold water, definitely waking me up, and redid my braid. I grabbed my cap and ran down the stairs.

Most of the boys were in the "living" room of the house, doing various things. I didn't see Spot. I said hi to a couple boys, but they all just quickly glanced away. What the hell?

"Uh, fellas, I don't bite." A few glared at me, but that was all the response I was getting. Then Spot walked in.

"Ya kids ready?" They all responded to him, I thought, scowling. That was enough. I was not going to live here, work here, if all I got were blank stares. I crossed the room quickly and dragged Spot out the door.

"If you'll just excuse us, we'll be back, in just a moment." Spot was so surprised it took him a couple of seconds before he shook me off. I glared at him, very upset.

"Alright, I know you talked to them. I don't know exactly what you said, but I'm pretty sure I could give a pretty accurate guess. I don't know if you were genuinely trying to protect me when you were telling those boys to stay away from me or not; but either way, that's the most certain way to make them all ignore me. Do you want me to be a stranger here forever? I can handle myself, thank you very much!" I really was a terrible liar. I was expecting Spot to laugh and shove me away, but instead he gave me a rather confused, yet serious face. When he looked me in the eye, my heart suddenly started beating very fast.

"Doll, dose guys in dere are tough. Dey don't give a damn bout you, til ya proven yaself. And seein as ya've prolly nevah been on da streets before, dat's gonna be real hard." He paused for a moment. "I don't know what kinda goil you is, but unless you, or I, tell dem to lay off a ya, dey won't. And you could get hoit." I thought, for a split second, that he might be joking. I started to laugh but then I saw his face. It was so serious. It was kind of freaky. I didn't like it.

"So," I said, trying to change the subject. "Are there any girl brooklynites?" I knew there weren't. I hadn't seen a single one. But to hell with it all. I was changing the subject. For some reason Spot smiled. It looked like he was trying not to laugh.

"Uh, yeah, dere are goils." My eyes widened.

"What?" Spot shrugged.

"Dey's all ovah in Manhattan." I shook my head, trying to sort it all out. I crossed my arms, feeling more confused than I liked.

"Okay, so if girls live here too, do they all sleep with the boys? I mean, do they sleep in the same _room_ as the boys." Spot smirked at my stumbling question.

"Uh, no, dey sleeps by demselves in da goil's room." I stared at him, my mouth open in shock. There was a girl's room? He started to walk away and I grabbed him. He shrugged me off but he turned around.

"Hey! What do you mean they're 'all in Manhattan'? And why, why, did you make me sleep in the boy's room if there was a girls room?" Spot shrugged again.

"Ya wanted ta join us. Brooklyn isn't some place ya kin jus join. Ya gotta prove yaself. Dat was da foist test." I frowned heavily.

"Did I pass?" Spot smirked.

"If ya didn't pass, den da test would be impossible. Only a goil who knows how ta take care of hoiself would sleep in a room full of Brooklyn boys. So yeah, ya passed." I thought about that for a minute. Um, or maybe the said girl was really just a dumb-ass, and was naïve to the cruelties of the world. Spot studied me and then sighed.

"Why ya here Songboid?" I glared at him. I knew that would come up. Couldn't he just accept me?

"Because I've always _dreamed_ of being a newsie." He raised an eyebrow at my sarcasm. "Why do you think, Spot? Cause I suck, and there are too many people in Manhattan who saw my… disaster." Spot didn't say anything. He looked at me forever. We were both still. We didn't blink. Then suddenly Spot broke away, his eyes glancing at the sky before coming back to rest on me.

"Dis is da deal. Ya sell wit me taday, and we see if you'se is any good at sellin. Den we see if ya can fight. Dat's when we find out wedder ya pass or ya don't pass." He started to walk off.

"Spot!" I called out to him. "What happens if I don't pass?" He turned slowly around.

"Ya get 'escorted' outa Brooklyn." I gulped. He smirked and walked up the steps. I stayed outside thinking. There was no way I was gonna pass the fighting test.

I was debating whether I was going to throw myself off the Brooklyn Bridge, thank you Spot for the idea, or to go find a gun when the newsies threw open the door and piled out. I was pushed and pulled along until suddenly I was in a rowdy line. I was squished in between two guys. A really buff guy stood in front of me, and a super tall boy stood behind me. The line moved slowly forward, and I heard "Dat'll be fifty cents!" That was when I remembered that I had no money. And it cost money to buy papers. I swore silently and looked over Buff Guy's humongous shoulder. I was just six people away before it would be my turn.

I tried to shove my way out of the line but there were too many giant tough boys around me. I asked Tall Boy to move, but he just ignored me. Thanks again, Spot. I asked again. Stupid, rude brooklynite. He was forcing me to do this. Not only was I now two people away from buying papers, I was starting to get really claustrophobic. I managed to turn around and knee Tall Boy in the balls. He yelped so loudly it almost blew my eardrums out. He tried to throw a punch at me while holding himself. I ducked and he ended up punching Buff Guy. Buff Guy turned around with a furious look on his face, glaring at Tall Boy. Buff Guy shoved Tall Boy hard, sending him flying into all the boys behind him. They fell over like dominoes. Buff Guy spit at them and turned back around.

Unfortunately, for him, his spit landed on a girl who had just walked up. The intense look of disgust and shock turned to anger and she threw herself on Buff Guy, accidentally stepping on some of the boys' hands. I slipped out of the fight right as it reached its high point. Right as I was about to turn the corner I looked back. I don't know what had happened but now everyone was fighting. I gulped, and ran around the corner.

Right into Spot. I fell onto my side and Spot quickly walked around the corner and then back to me. He offered me a hand, a confused look on his face.

"You'se is quite interstin doll. How on earth did ya start dat and get out of it widout a scratch?" I smiled nervously and shrugged.

"I didn't have any money." Spot laughed for the first time since I'd met him. He seemed to think the situation very amusing.

"Well, you'se a woman wid poipouse. Now isn't it a good ting I bought extra papes today. C'mon." He walked away, still laughing to himself about me.

* * *

Race smoked as he walked to Brooklyn. He was definitely nervous, though you wouldn't have been able to tell, unless you were a close friend. He took quick breaths in, and quick breaths out. Crossing the Brooklyn Bridge seemed to take a lot longer then usual, and Race sped up, not wanting to be too late. When he was almost to the end, he noticed a couple newsies walking towards him. They were rather tall and bulky, and Race did not recognize them. He hoped they weren't from Brooklyn. He had his Sheepshead excuse of course, but if they had any brain at all, they'd see through that lie.

"Hey, it's da shrip from 'hattan." One of the boys said this when Race was about 5 feet away from him, and Race stopped, trying not to get mad.

"Yeah?" The boys laughed, and then one of them stepped forward to speak.

"We got a message foah Cowboy. From Harlem." Race did not let his face show the surprise he felt. A message from Harlem? What was that about?

"And we want youse ta delivah it." The guy spat the last word, and they both proceeded to glare at him. Race looked back and forth between them before he finally gave his answer.

"No. I got da races ta get to. It's yoah message. Delivah it yaself." He tried to brush past them, but the boys blocked his way.

"Bad mistake, kid." They shoved him to the ground. One of them put his foot on his chest, pushing down, maybe a little harder then needed.

"Here's da message. Harlem don't want no more 'hatten newsies in Harlem. Keep to yoah territory, otherwise, people might get hoit." Race raised an eyebrow. There were threating Manhattan? And why didn't they want anyone in Harlem? He took too long to answer and one of the guys kicked in the side. Race curled, clutching his middle, a pained look on his face. The guy seemed like he wanted to do more, but the other stopped him, with a look. Then he turned to Race.

"Shoo, little one." They made a blockade.

Well, there was no way Race was getting into Brooklyn today. He slowly got up, knowing that kick would leave a bruise, and spat at their feet before walking back to the Manhatten Lodging House. Jack needed to hear this.

* * *

Spot sighed, walking alongside Song, trying to sell the rest of the newspaper. She was an utter failure. She couldn't make a headline to save her life. He had bought 100 papes at the beginning of the day, and he'd let her try to sell some of them. All in all, she had managed to sell a whopping 17. In an entire day. And that was only because of her acting. She was a great actress, Spot'd give her that, though he'd never tell her. But he didn't like it when she pretended to have a sick little brother, and cry to make people buy her paper. It wasn't tough. And he didn't want people thinking Brooklyn wasn't.

Finally Spot had had enough. He took her last three papes, and sold them instantly. Then he took her to the docks. It was getting dark, and Song started

"Yoah terrible," Spot said in a monotone. Song glared at him.

"No, really? I sold 17 papes!" Spot rolled his eyes, her voice dripping with sarcasm. He turned to her, his eyes looking her up and down.

"How much ya wanna be a newsie, Cards?" Song crossed her arms over her chest and gave Spot a look. He nodded.

"Ise gonna make ya a deal 'cuz I'm so nice." He paused for a moment. "You can be a Brooklynite, but…" Song tensed, expecting the worst. "But youse gotta drop that attitude of yoahs. I'm da leadah of Brooklyn, and I expect ta be treated likewise. Undastand?" Song gave a slight nod, though she didn't look happy about it.

"Ya passed two outa tree test,, and—" Song put her hands up.

"Hey. I did not pass the newspaper test!" Spot rolled his eyes.

"1. Yer not scared of my boys. 2. Ya can fight. 3. Ya can't sell." She raised her eyebrows, if wanting to disagree, but she kept her mouth shut. Something seemed to occur to her and head tilted as she asked her next question.

"Spot, if I accept, will I get to sell newspapers my way?" Spot sighed, and nodded. He didn't look too happy about it. Neither did Song. She had a sour grimace on her face, she stuck her hand out to shake on it. Spot just nodded and walked away with an amused look. Finally, he'd gotten across to her. Now, things would be a lot easier.

* * *

The next day Pest had to remind me that my (well, Medda's) dress was still at the tailor's. And I just couldn't leave it there. It was Medda's. So after I sold my twenty papers, I skipped lunch and went to the tailors. I put my hair up in my hat and walked in.

"Good day, Sir. I have come to pick up a dress for my sister." I had deepened my voice, but even so, the man looked at me suspiciously. "She dropped it off two days ago." The man still didn't look convinced, but with a lot of help from my acting skills, maybe I could reassure him. The man walked into a back room and came out with the dress.

"That'll be two dollars and fifty cents. You have it with you?" I pretended to look shocked.

"Don't you know whose dress this is?" The man looked confused. "Think. Who usually gives you dresses like these?" The man raised an eyebrow.

"Medda Larkson?" I nodded.

"Very good. Now, my sister ran off with one of Medda's dresses, so she is having me pick it up for her. So thank you for everything." I took the dress out of his hands and walked out the door, the man to stunned to move. Then I ran, folding the dress as I went. There was no way that the dress was getting dirty again.

I reached Irving Hall, and tried to push away the bad memories. I walked up the steps, my hands shaking. No one was on the stage so I walked up the steps to Medda's room. I knocked on the door and it swung wide open.

"Songbird! You are back!" I quickly shook my head.

"NO. I'm just here to give you your dress back." Medda took my arm and pulled me into her room.

"Darling, what happened Saturday night—" I finished her sentence.

"Was awful. I know. I'm awful. That's why I'm resigning. I'm a newsie now, so I won't be bothering you anymore." Medda looked shocked, but I was sure she was really happy and relieved.

"Honey, you just had a bad night. Everyone does. If you give it another try—" I shook my head, silencing her.

"I'm done, Medda." I handed her the dress and walked out before she could say anything. I walked quickly down the stairs, closing the door hard behind me.

It just wasn't fair. Everything I had ever dreamed of, was ruined. Now I was a newsies, under the control of Spot Conlon, who thought I could fight, which I couldn't. I was in a pickle, and I wasn't even doing something I loved. I wanted to sing. But I couldn't. There was no way I would if everyone was just going to laugh at me… and scream at me… and… a tear slipped down my cheek. I wiped it away furiously and shoved open the door out of Irving Hall. I needed to get out of there before I started sobbing.

"Song!" I spun around. It was Racetrack. Damn. Just who I needed to see. Someone to make fun of me for failing. I turned back around and started walking ever faster.

"Hey! Song wait up!" I started running as another tear ran down my cheek. I felt a hand on my shoulder and I was forced to stop. Race turned me around and I could see he looked worried.

"Songboid, what's da mattah? Ya look terrible!" I tried to shove him away but he held me tightly. "Songboid, you'se is scarin me. Did someone hoit ya?" He swore. "Dis is why ya shouldn'ta gone ta Brooklyn…" _Another_ tear slipped down my cheek, but he had my arms and I couldn't wipe it away.

"It's nothing." Race just gave me a look. "Really, it isn't. Just…" I paused, looking at the sky, determined not to cry again. "Why'd I have to be such a failure?" I whispered the last word, barely able to utter it aloud. Race wiped the tear off my face, and he smiled.

"Whatevah gave ya dat idea?" He had me by the shoulders and he looked at me so kindly and caringly with those chocolatey brown eyes that I just couldn't hold it in any longer. Tears started streaming down my face. Why did I have to be such a big baby? And in front of someone to! I tore away from his grip and started to run again, but he caught my hand. He sat me down on the ground and then he sat too.

"Explain. Tell me whatsa mattah." I was so shocked that I had stopped crying for a moment. He nodded, expecting me to tell him. I took a deep breath and thought about where I should start.

"Well, I'm a newsie in Brooklyn now." Race nodded. He already knew this. I continued. "Spot expects me to change the way I am if I want to sell, and he's just so controlling. None of the newsies there like me, or talk to me, unless to mock me, or tell me I'm not pretty enough to be a girl. Spot thinks I can fight, which I can't, and I'm terrible at making up headlines. Plus," I said. "I just really miss singing. But, I can't go back now. I was such a failure the last time." Race didn't say a thing while I piled all my troubles onto his back. He just sat there listening. He reached over and wiped yet another tear off my face. When he spoke, he did so with a quiet mature voice.

"Songboid. Ya look at da woild in da wrong way. Ya look at all da bad parts so much dat ya start inventing ones dat don't even exist. You'se an amazing singer; you just had some stupid drunken men in da front row. Dey'll never do dat again. After ya ran out, we gave dem… a talking to. Everyone dere was really mad at dem, and we was all really worried bout you. You definitely are beautiful, those Brookies just like testing how tough ya are, seeing if ya gonna cry at da foist tease. And even if you weren't, it doesn't matter what ya look like. What matters is who ya are. If yer beautiful on de inside. You have to show the beautifulness dat's inside. Everyone has deir own way of doin it. And yours is singing. Dat's why yer so upset right now. Because you haven't been singing." I sat there with my eyes growing wider and wider. How did Racetrack know that? It was like he knew all my problems inside and out and just spoke exactly what I needed to here.

"Songboid, I have da poifect song for you to sing. And ya don't even have ta sing at Irving Hall, cause youse can sing in Central Park. And ya'll be amazing." There was a breathless silence, as I thought about what he had just said. Race started leaning in closer, but I had this sudden burst of happiness and I flung my arms around him.

"Race, you're the best. Thank you. Thank you for being such a good friend." Eventually he accepted the hug, but as I pulled away, and Race told me the song he had in mind, I couldn't help but notice that he looked disappointed. Sad. But maybe I was just imaging it.

* * *

Race trudged back to the Lodging House, feeling a lot worse then he had in a while. She had completely rejected him. He'd leaned in to kiss her, after giving her such encouragement, and she'd instead hugged him, saying he was a good friend. Race was in the pits. The only chance was if he told her tonight at the "party". After she sang, he'd get her alone for a bit, to tell her how he felt. He knew it was rather quick, but he didn't want to wait any longer, or he felt like he was going to burst.

He'd actually been heading to Medda's for advice. She loved all the newsies, but especially the Manhattan newsies, and especially Jack, Mush and himself. He wanted to talk to her about his feelings. But Song had been coming out the door when he got there. That had seriously surprised him. He hadn't expected to see her for a while, or until Mr. King of Brooklyn decided to let her come visit. But there she'd been, and Race had taken his chance. But she had denied him.

Race ran a hand through his hair, completely agitated. What was he supposed to do now? He had already told Jack about the message from Harlem, though not about the kick; Jack being Jack, he would've started war then and there. Jack had been pretty upset though, muttering things like, "Harlem getting too good for the rest of us." He'd been very glad the monthly Full Moon Newsie Party was that night. They always held it Central Park, and it was open for all newsies. Usually they just hang out, and sometimes there was music. This time, Song would be singing.

Race smiled, despite himself. He did love her voice. When she'd started singing for the first time, he could've died right then and be happy. At least he'd get to hear her again. He pushed open the door of the lodging house and walked up the stairs. Now that he knew she was safe, he finally could get some rest. He was taking a nap before the party. He'd barely slept at all in the last couple of days.

* * *

"Ya what?"

Song had come back to the Brooklyn Lodging House with some interesting news, some Spot wasn't all too glad to hear.

"At the party tonight. I'm singing. Who's coming?" Spot sighed, shaking his head. So much for never singing again. He could've said something about that, but he was being "nice".

"Most of us. I have to talk to Jack." Song's face lit up, and then looked worried again. She was obviously having conflicting feelings. It was when girls were feeling weak like that, Spot knew they were most vulnerable. He took her hand, giving it a squeezed.

"You'll do great," he said sincerely, and he could tell he had affected her. She looked at him with wide eyes, and a shocked look. Slowly it turned into a shy smile.

"Thanks, Spot," she said, and Spot just nodded. Tonight should be an interesting night, he thought.

* * *

_Sooooo, Spot's thinking of making a move on her? And poor Race! Song is so clueless! __ Let me know what you thought of this chapter! Do you think Song was too melodramatic when she was talking to Race? And what do you think is gonna happen with Harlem? Love you! Thanx for your support! _


	5. Central Park

**Brooklyn Turned Queen**

_By: IHeartRace9_

_Hey my peeps. :D How ya doin? This chapter gets interesting, very fast. :D Haha, I hope you enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. I do own Song/Cards, Dice, Pest, Butterfly, Storm, and Candy. Verge does not belong to me. Racetrack's Goil, very kindly lent him to me for this story. You should definitely check out her (COMPLETE) story "Ace of Hearts". It's super good. :D Also, I kind of half own Candy. She is based off of my friend __DiAmOnDsrBlUe, who asked me if she could be in this story. I gladly said yes, and if any of you would like to be in my story, next chapter is when I'll be introducing the bulk of the characters. __ So review &/or message me about your character! __ Now, enjoy!_

* * *

So, I was singing. Again. At Central Park of all places. Race said that there was going to be a Newsie party there. He wanted me to sing for it. And now I wanted to sing for it.

As newsies started arriving from all over the place, I started to hyperventilate. I quickly walked over to Racetrack, trying to be discreet.

"Race, I don't think I can do this." Race smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

"Yeah ya do, ya jus noivous. Don't worry bout it. Everyone'll love ya. Now, go take deep breaths, cause yer on in five minutes." I walked away trying to look confident. I had borrowed Medda's dress again, Race had arranged it; I didn't want to talk to Medda at the moment. After about five minutes Race quieted everyone and started talking.

"Hey ya newsies! Well, we'se all here ta have some fun on dis nice evening. Dere's a full moon for any of ya lovahs, and we got ourselves a great singah who is gonna be singing a really great song. So I'd like ta introduce, Songboid!" There were newsies strewn across the grass everywhere. I walked into the center. I saw Jack, and Skittery. Spot was there in the front looking like he owned the place. And there was Race behind everyone, giving me a thumbs up just like last time. I had told Race I wanted no makeup for this song, and my hair was still in a braid, though it was neater than usual. I hadn't even wanted to wear the dress, but Race had made me.

Everyone stared at me. Like last time. I tried to sing, but nothing came out. Except a squeak. The newsies laughed. Even Spot. I looked at Race for help. He smiled encouragingly and winked at me. I smiled suddenly feeling a lot better. I was stupid. This song was about not caring what other people thought of you. And I was going to show that.

"_Don't look at me_

_Every day is so wonderful_  
_Then suddenly, it's hard to breathe_  
_Now and then, I get insecure_  
_From all the pain, I'm so ashamed_

_I am beautiful no matter what they say_  
_Words can't bring me down_  
_I am beautiful in every single way_  
_Yes, words can't bring me down_  
_So don't you bring me down today_

_To all your friends, you're delirious_  
_So consumed in all your doom_  
_Trying hard to fill the emptiness_  
_The pieces gone, left the puzzle undone_  
_Is that the way it is_

_You are beautiful no matter what they say_  
_Words can't bring you down_  
_You are beautiful in every single way_  
_Yes, words can't bring you down_  
_Don't you bring me down today..._

_No matter what we do_  
_No matter what we say_  
_We're the song inside the tune_  
_Full of beautiful mistakes_

_And everywhere we go_  
_The sun will always shine_  
_And tomorrow we might wake on the other side_  
_All the other times_

_We are beautiful no matter what they say_  
_Yes, words can't bring us down_  
_We are beautiful in every single way_  
_Yes, words can't bring us down_  
_Don't you bring me down today_

_Don't you bring me down today_  
_Don't you bring me down today"_

As I finished no one uttered a sound. Then there was a lone clapper, Race, clapping his heart out. Suddenly, everyone was clapping. They were all cheering like mad. I smiled ecstatically and bowed. I couldn't believe it. They liked it! I bowed again and ran over to Race. I hugged him.

"Ya did great, Song! Dat was amazing! Dey loved ya! You'se jus nailed it!" I smiled even more. This is what I'd dreamed of. I then ran over to Jack to say hi.

"You'se shore dat was you singin? Sounded more like an angel. No human could sing dat sweetly!" I laughed and pecked him on the cheek. I waved at Jack and started walking around when I heard someone clear their voice behind me. I whirled around to find Spot standing there looking smug. Instead of congratulating me he said,

"So, ya say ya name's Cards? We'se playin a pokah game. Care ta join us?" And with that, he walked off. It was obvious that he expected me to follow him. Great. Well, this was a real pickle. I knew NOTHING about poker. I ran after Spot. The group that he was heading for was already sitting in a semi-circle. Racetrack waved and I looked curiously at the girl sitting next to him. She had curly raven black hair that was piled on the top of her head. She had gorgeous grey eyes, and she looked about sixteen. She was laughing at something Race had just said. Maybe Race's girlfriend? Race stood up and said,

"Song, dis is Candy." He gestured to the girl. "She's my little sis." Candy got up and came over and hugged me.

"Hey! I know we're going to be BEST friends. Race has told me ALL about you. I'm a Queens newsie!" Race coughed uncomfortably and I smiled.

"I'm sure we will. You're the first girl newsie I've met, thanks to Spot." I glared at him. He just smiled good-naturedly and patted at the grass next to him.

"Doll." He nodded his head at me. He was acting unnaturally nice all of the sudden. I nodded my thanks and sat down. Racetrack dealt out the cards.

"Hey, isn't Candy playing?" Candy laughed. She had tinkling laugh, if that makes any sense, and it was adorable.

"Hell, no! Race just beat all the money out of my pockets. I'm broke." I suddenly felt a blush creep up my neck.

"Hey, boys." I squirmed as they looked at me. "I don't have any money either. I used it for lunch today." Spot smiled sweetly.

"Dat's okay, ya got something else. Let's just say ya give a kiss to da winnah." I rolled my eyes but nodded. I picked up my cards and was immediately lost.

By the time Spot laid down his hand declaring himself a winner, much to the great disbelief of Racetrack and the amusement of Candy, my head was killing me. Spot was bragging like no one else could, and poor Race's face was flushed red. Candy was laughing at Racetrack and Spot smiled as he turned to me.

"So, weah's my kiss," he asked innocently. I rolled my eyes again and leaned over to kiss his cheek. Instead my lips met lips. Spot was kissing me? I had never kissed anyone before, but I was guessing that Spot was a really good kisser. His lips were rough, his mouth was warm, and it was amazing. When I finally broke for air I heard a voice say, "Man, if dat's how ya play pokah, I want in!" I blushed and turned my face away from Spot. I noticed Candy was gone.

"Hey, Race, where did Candy go?" Race looked at me and said, "She needed a drink." His voice had a hard edge to it. He suddenly got up.

"I'll leave ya to da 'winnah'. I think I'll be gettin a drink too." He stalked off, looking very upset. What had I done? I guess he was still mad about the game. When I turned back to Spot, he was gone too. I sighed. This was going to be a long night

* * *

Race stormed over to the bar, down the street from Central Park. He needed a drink. He had just seen Spot Conlon, that jerk, full-on kiss Song. It'd become practically a make-out session, and Song had looked like she had very much enjoyed it. And Spot… Race clenched his fists. He was obviously enjoying it too. He was the one who turned it from a quick peck on the cheek, to "Let's French kiss."

"Gimme sumtin stong, Dale. I need it tanight." Dale, the bartender Race had known for a while, shot him a sympathetic look. He quickly went to work. Meanwhile Race couldn't keep his hands still. He had them clutching his head, making fists, and in his mouth, as he told himself he would not succumb to his emotions. She was just a girl, right?

Dale slid a mug across the counter, and Race nodded his thanks, and drained half of it in the first gulp. Dale's eyebrows shot up, and when Race set it back on the counter rather loudly, he had to ask.

"Girl troubles?" Race looked at him, his eyes big, trying to keep the tears back. The burning down his throat helped. But he nodded. Dale sighed.

"I'm sorry for ya. I'm just glad I don't have ta deal wid em at all." Race smiled for Dale. Dale had a boyfriend from another bar, and they'd been together since Race had known him. But seriously, pointing out how good their relationship was, was not helping Race. He couldn't believe she'd go for Spot over him. He just couldn't.

* * *

"So, Jackey-boy, how ya been?" Jack and Spot had wandered off, a lot to talk about. Spot, thumbs tucked around his red suspenders, had a lot to say. But he wanted to hear all the news from Manhattan first.

"We got a visatah from Harlem, Spot. Well, actually two of 'em." Spot raised his eyebrows. He hadn't been expecting that.

"What'd dey want?" Jack rolled his eyes.

"Da goons tried to tell us ta stay outa Harlem. Real threatnin like." He scowled, and Spot almost smirked. Jack had a nice scowl.

"Yeah, well, I got more news foah you," Spot said. Jack turned to him, surprise on his face.

"Not just us den?" Spot nodded.

"Dey's doin stuff in Harlem dey don't want us to see. My little boidies been spyin round Harlem, and some of em aren't even sellin. Dey're buildin sumtim, Jackey-boy. And dey've banned us from Harlem too. I don't like it." Jack nodded, his brow furrowed.

"Ya talk ta Queens yet?" Spot laughed.

"Da bitch was supposed ta be here already." Jack nodded, a guarded look on his face. Spot rolled his eyes. He knew Jack liked Storm, the only girl newsie leader, but to him, she was just a pain in the ass.

"Boys. How's it rollin?" Storm had stepped between the two, slapping an arm around both. She was taller then Spot, and he shrugged her arm off looking at her with disgust. Did she seriously just use that line?

"Not the greatest, Storm. How's Queens?" Storm sighed loudly.

"Harlem won't stay offa back. I've had a couple boys come back, wid a black eye, but Harlem just claims accident. I'm sick of it." Jack nodded and looked at Spot. They'd stopped walking and now were standing in a little circle.

"You got anyting Spot?" Spot smirked. He loved being the one they turned to. He nodded and started discussing his idea.

* * *

The party lasted late into the night. Soon couples were littered all over Central Park. I felt very out of place. First of all, because I was all by my lonesome, and second of all, I had just been kissed by Spot Conlon. Ummm…

I went to kiss his cheek real quick and suddenly he was kissing me like his life depended on it. Yeah, it was intense, but it was kind of scary. Why'd he do it? I was a little creeped out. I hadn't really thought about Spot before. Spot and Song… Song and Spot… hmmm… and where was he anyways? He had just disappeared, along with Race and Candy.

I was feeling kind of lonely when a boy, probably around 15 or so appeared. He had white blonde hair and green eyes. He sat down on the grass next to me. I was still in the same place where I'd played poker, and kissed Spot. The boy nodded at me, and then started looking at the stars, completely ignoring me. I don't know how he felt, but to me, the silence was really uncomfortable. I decided to break it.

"So I'm, um…" I paused, not knowing what name to give.

"Your da goil." I looked at the boy, confused. He smiled softly. "Da goil everyone's been talkin bout. Da singah dat whiskey was trown at. Da newest brookie and most recently, da goil who kissed Spot Conlon in pokah." I blushed deeply. How did he know all that? He stuck his hand forward. "I'se Verge." I shook his hand uneasily. This boy was strange. I didn't know if it was a good or bad thing yet. I decided to find out more about him.

"So what borough are you part of?" Verge shrugged.

"My brudder's da leadah of Harlem. Ya hoid of us?" I nodded, vaguely remembering Race say Harlem wasn't going to be at the party. Another mysterious thing about Verge. Why was he here? Now I felt all detective like. Hey, it was late at night. Verge went back to looking at the stars. I was getting annoyed. Where was Race? And Spot? I was starting to miss Candy, even though I barely knew her.

"He's dangerous, ya know." My head snapped towards Verge. He was now staring at me. Unsettling indeed. I raised my eyebrows.

"Who is?"

"Spot." I couldn't help but laugh. Verge looked incredibly unamused. "Why are you laughing?" I sighed.

"Just the way you said, 'Spot', like it was the end of the world…" I trailed off. Verge was staring blatantly. "Um…" I said awkwardly. He tried again.

"Spot's dangerous. I'm not just talkin bout how he can fight like a ninja. I mean, dat part's pretty obvious. I'm talkin bout da emotional part." I raised my eyebrows. How did I know it would come back to "the kiss". I tried to tell him to drop it but he just shushed me. "I'm tryin ta help ya." I sighed but shut up. He was quiet for a moment before starting up again.

"Spot has broken more hearts den you could imagin. He's gone troo so many goils, it's almost like he aint got no heart at all. He just goofs around widem, and den drops 'em in da mud. Now, I'se saw ya kissin him a whilse ago, and I saw yer face aftah he let up. Jus like all de udders. Why ya think 'es such a good kissah?" I blushed at that. But I was also rather annoyed. This boy was telling me that my newsie leader was tryin to make me fall in love with him, and that then he would break my heart. I crossed my arms and asked huffily, "Why are you telling me all this? Why do you even care? I don't even know you." Verge sighed and put his head in his hands.

"Ya nevah lisen do ya? Evah!" He stood up to go, but I stopped him.

"Who are you talking about? And you never answered my last question, why do you care about me enough to come and warn me about Spot?!" Verge stared at me with big eyes.

"Cause ya got da same attitude dat me sistah did. And yer fallin in love wit da sam joik dat she did. And, if ya don't watch yerself, when he breaks ya heart, ya might kill yaself, like she did." And with that he stalked off, tears threatening to fall.

I sat there, stiff, for a very long time. Had Verge just said that his sister had killed herself? And because of Spot? I suddenly felt very cold. This was getting out of hand. My few friends had disappeared. And anyways, I really needed a girl to talk to , to help me sort out my feelings. But I still hadn't met the Brooklyn girls. I guess they were there at the party, but no one had introduced them to me.

I finally got up. I noticed there were only a few couples left, but no one else. I was so befuddled. Where was Spot, Race, Candy, Jack, and all the others? That was when Spot decided to grace me with his presence.

"Hey doll, ya look tired. Ya wanna go?" I sighed impatiently at him.

"Where have you been, Conlon?" Spot smirked at my bad mood.

"Not dat it's any aya business, but I was talkin wid Jack. Leadah stuff. What have you been doin?" I rolled my eyes and walked away from him. I was tired, confused, and annoyed. Not a good combo. Spot took my hand. I turned around with a sour look.

"Ya wanna dance?" I raised my eyebrows.

"Dance?" He shrugged his shoulders.

"Maybe it'll take dat ugly look off ya face." I scowled at him and tried to be annoying.

"But there isn't any music." Spot suddenly pulled me into a dance position.

"Who needs music?" He whispered. I was going to say that I did, and that I couldn't live without it when Spot twirled me around almost lifting me of my feet. A few minutes later we started slowing down for a rest, and I asked Spot, "What are you doing Spot?" Spot smiled.

"I'd think dat was rather obvious, doll. Dancin." I looked him straight in his deep blue eyes.

"But is that all it is? Just a dance?"

He whispered, "Nuttin is just a dance wid Spot Conlon." And he spun me back into a faster dance. A little while later we danced into a slower rhythm. Our bodies touching we danced slowly hearing the music of night. After a slow spin I fell back into Spot's arms, and he lowered me to the ground.

"Now, was dat too terrible?" I smiled.

"I guess not. But all we did was dance." Spot leaned closer to me.

"Dat's cause da dance aint ovah yet." And for the second time that night, I found Spot kissing me. He caught me by surprise. I really hadn't been expecting it to happen again. Well, maybe I was, I guess I had just shoved it down. I didn't want to believe what Verge had said about Spot.

As I thought this, Spot deepened the kiss. My emotions were going haywire, and I'm not going to try to describe the kiss, as I would sound like some love-struck dumbass. But I couldn't help but think about what Verge had said. After all, why was Spot kissing me? Had he had too much to drink? Did he actually like me? Or was he just playing with me? I pushed him away.

"Spot, I…" Spot cut me off.

"Doll, you know you want to. Just go with you heart, and enjoy yourself." And he leaned in once more. If this was love, it was a lot more awkward then I'd imagined.

I was trying to decide whether to just "go with it", or to slap him, and tell him to stop when Racetrack walked up to find Spot kneeling, and kissing me (I was on the ground). He didn't recognize us at first, but when he did his mouth dropped. Spot must have noticed the change in the air and he turned around. He nodded to Race. Race looked like he was in pain. He took off his hat and ran a hand through his almost black hair. Spot cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows as if to say, "Yes? You're interrupting. Get on with it!" Race looked at his feet and back up at nothing in particular.

"Uh, I came ta say g'bye to Songboid. But she seems ta be busy." Awkward pause. I got off the ground quickly and hugged him.

"See ya Race. And thanks again for everything! You gave me so much courage." Racetrack nodded and walked away in to the night. I couldn't help feeling sad though, as I noticed that he didn't hug me back.

* * *

Dammit.

Race had very quickly lost himself in the dark alleys after fleeing Central Park, and he was just too upset to even care. He sank down against a wall, his fists balled.

"Dammit! God dammit," he said. Tears started forming, his disbelief on reentering the park came back. Spot and Song. MAKING OUT, on the ground. Race punched a wall. He could feel his skin ripping, but he couldn't care less. He was so mad. At everyone and everything.

How did Song not know that Spot tried to seduce every girl that walked in those Brooklyn doors? How did she not know by the looks on his face, and the way he acted, that he cared absolutely nothing for her? And, why, dammit, why, could she not see how much Race did?

He punched the wall again. He didn't know what was wrong with him. He didn't know why he had fallen for this girl so hard. He'd only met her a couple times, but he already felt so much protection for her. He had never felt this way about anyone.

"Shit," he muttered as he sank down again. "Why me?"

* * *

After Race left, Spot decided it was late and they should head back to Brooklyn. Song was not ecstatic about the idea, but she followed slowly behind him. To Spot it was just a nice stroll. Anyways, he had things to think about. His bet with Dice was moving along well. Song apparently liked him. He took her hand, and she smiled slightly. He knew tonight was still too soon for her, but he hoped the night would come soon. He needed to be focusing on the Harlem problem.

They needed to get someone on the inside, Spot had told them. Obviously someone new. Or, someone quiet. Just so long as they KNEW that Harlem had never met them before. Jack and Storm had agreed. They'd both gone back to their borough thinking through all their newsies, and who would be the best to go.

"Spot, do you like me?"

The question startled him. One, he really hadn't been paying Song much attention since they'd left the park. And two, his girls usually didn't ask that.

"A course doll." Song seemed to study him, obviously probing to see if he meant it. He gave a smile and added, "Dat's why I kissed ya." He acted like he'd thought himself very witty. Song gave a wry smile and turned her attention back to walking. Spot looked at the dark sky. At least that was out of the way. He was pretty sure she trusted him now.

They'd reached the lodging house finally, and they were almost to the boy's room when Song's eyes widened.

"Spot! Girl's room?" Spot smirked. She wouldn't be making that mistake again. He just pointed up, and gave her a wink. She blushed and ran up the stairs. Spot rolled his eyes after she was gone and walked into the bunkroom.

Most of the boys were sleeping, a couple playing a game of poker in the back, one sitting on his bed whittling, and one on the fire escape, his cigarette glowing. Spot smirked. Wherever the glow of a cigarette was, Dice was. He climbed out to join him.

"How was da party?" Spot sighed, his defenses letting down a little.

"Aright. I beat ya pal Race in pokah." Dice turned his head, wide-eyed.

"Race hasn't lost a game a pokah in all da time I've known 'im." Spot smirked.

"Well, a rigged card deck didn't help adall, ya know." Dice rolled his eyes and turned them back to the stars.

"So, how's the goil comin along?" Spot nodded.

"She's comin. Already had a couple make out sessions." Dice raised his eyebrows, impressed. "I toldja she'd be easy." Dice shrugged.

"You were right den." A few minutes silence.

"What bout Harlem?"

"Da bitch's had some beatins in Queens. All accidents a course. Jack got a message from dem sayin ta stay outa Harlem, or else." Dice blew out a ring a smoke.

"Dey got balls," he muttered. Spot gave a half smile.

"Yeah, dat dey do. But, Dice, we'se sendin someone in. We need some eyes in dere." Dice raised an eyebrow, a smile playing on his lips.

"What, ya little boidies not doin deir job right," he teased. Spot gave him a light punch.

"My boids can only do so much. Anyways," he trailed off. Dice sighed.

"Gonna be pretty dangerous." Spot nodded. "Ya know who yet?" Spot looked at him and shook his head.

"Not yet. But soon. Letcha know when I do." Spot stole the cigarette from his second, took a long drag and handed it back, standing. "I'm headin in for da night. Make shore ya up tomorrow, Dice." Dice just waved him away, and Spot went inside to his room.

His schedule just kept getting bigger and bigger.

* * *

_Wow. I really liked that chapter. So much side characters! __ I feel soo bad to do that to Race, but it had to happen. Next chapter we meet the goils of Brooklyn :D Excited! Let me know if any of you want to have a girl in it! __ And please, leave me a comment telling me what you thought! Thanx!_


	6. Harlem

**Brooklyn Turned Queen**

_By: IHeartRace9_

_Hey fellers, so I took the weekend off of writing; I had a lot to do. But I'm back today! __ So, I hope you enjoy this chapter. We get to meet some cool people! And events happen. :D Read on!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. I do own Song/Cards, Dice, Candy, Butterfly, Notes, Sappy, Giggles, Storm, Pest, Red, Raven, Curly, Mint, Bootstraps, Silver, Alley Cat, and Harlem. Credit for Verge goes to Racetrack's Goil. Thanx!_

* * *

As I climbed up the stairs of the Brooklyn Newsies Lodging House, looking for the girls' bunkroom, I tried not to collapse. If I could just make it to a bed… I was so tired. That walk through Manhattan and across the Brooklyn Bridge, and to the lodging house had nearly killed me. Finally I reached the top of the staircase and saw a door, light shining through the crack at the bottom. I slowly walked over to it, and knocked.

"Don't come in Butch! I'se not gonna tell ya again! Dis is da goil's room! Go ta bed!" I smirked, despite my tiredness. Someone was up past their bedtime. I pushed the door open and walked into the room.

"Butch, if ya don't go way right now, I'm gonna knock yer 'ead off!" The girl jumped off the bed quickly, not noticing I was in the room, and she slammed the door hard. She turned around breathing hard and saw me standing there, probably looking a little shocked.

"Oh!" I smiled nervously and waved.

"Hi, I'm Songbird… Well, Cards. Actually, either works. What do they call you?" The girl yawned as she shook my hand.

"I'se Notes. I play da Viola." I nodded happily. A girl who loved music too! Notes had short dark blonde hair, cute hazel eyes, and very pink lips. She had a sprinkling of freckles, and she was a couple inches shorter then me.

"Pick a bed that doesn't look taken," she said pointing to a couple of them slowly. "Most of da goils aint here right now. Sleepin in Manhattan or Queens, or dey're still in Central Park."

As I looked around the room, I noticed a few girls sleeping, heads under their blankets.

"I'll interduce y ate em all in da morning. Dey should be back by den." I walked over to a bunk in a back corner.

"Is this one taken?" Notes shook her head.

"Dat 'ole bunk is empty." I sat down on the bottom bunk. Notes yawned again, but came and sat on the bunk across from me.

"So, is you da goil who kissed Spot in pokah?" I rolled my eyes with a sigh.

"Does _everyone_ know about that?" Notes nodded.

"Pretty much. Is he good?" I sighed again.

"At what?" Now it was Note's turn to roll her eyes.

"Good at kissin, ya dumbass!" I just threw my pillow at her.

"I'm going to bed." Notes laughed at my blushing face and went to her bed.

"G'night Caaaards." I could hear her snickering from across the room. I closed my eyes, a smile on my face, despite her teasing. I had made my first Brooklyn Girl Newsie Friend. I'd worry about Spot tomorrow. I was tired.

* * *

Race eventually made his way back to the lodging house. After spending a while in the alley, getting all his feelings out, he plodded home, his steps reeking with dejection. By the time he got back the door was good and locked. He sighed, not having enough energy to do anything else. He quietly climbed up the fire escape and in through the window. Jack had kindly left it open. He imagined himself sinking into his bed, before he had met Song. He hadn't a care in the world except for going to the races. God, he wished it was still like that.

When the other newsies woke the next morning, Race still hadn't slept. He couldn't get her out of his mind. He tried to think about anything else, but it was useless. He got out of bed, the weight of his lost night of sleep on his shoulders.

"Heya Racetrack, how ya doin?" Crutchy passed his bed, and it took all of Race's restraint to give the cripple a death glare. He had no patience for Crutchy's optimism this morning. He just nodded stiffly, and turned to splash some water on his tight face.

"Race, sumtin botherin ya?" Race shrugged Blink's hand off his shoulder.

"Nah, a course not." Blink looked at him, not believing. Race rolled his eyes. Why couldn't they just leave him alone? Blink continued to look at him warily.

"Ya wanna sell wid me taday?" Race almost refused. He could take care of himself. But then he remembered that Sheepshead was in Brooklyn. There was no way he was going there today.

"Aright," he yielded. Blink's grin appeared, and he grabbed Race's arm.

"Well, come on den, ya wastin daylight!"

* * *

"Spot!"

Spot heard the banging on his door and he was immediately alert. He was across the small room in a heartbeat.

"What," he said, pretending to be calm, holding the door open, as Butterfly looked at him, an urgent look on her face.

"Harlem. He's payin ya a visit taday. At da docks." Spot nodded his thanks, giving her permission to go.

"Buttahfly!" The small girl stopped and turned in her tracks.

"Get da udders up, will ya." Butterfly nodded and hurried off. Spot shut his door and walked over to his window. He climbed out onto his fire escape and sat, drinking in the morning air. The sun hadn't quite risen yet, but he could feel it coming. It was going to be a hot day.

Harlem was coming. Not some messenger. But he himself. To talk? Spot didn't think so. Most likely to threaten. He liked doing that. Spot frowned. He really disliked Harlem. Especially when he started acting all high and mighty. He might just have to give the guy a talking to. If he really did show up.

* * *

I woke to whispers, slowly opening my eyes to find Notes and two other girls gathered around my bed. Notes shushed them as soon as she saw my eyes fluttering.

"Hey Song. Ya finally decided ta wake up, didja?" She shook her head, smiling as she turned to the other girls. "Goils, dis is Songboid, or Cards. Song, dis is Sappy and Giggles." I waved at them.

Giggles had a huge white grin plastered on her face, and a mane full of light brown hair that was pulled back into a long braid that reached down almost to her feet. Which was a long ways, since she had to be at least 5'11. I wouldn't be surprised if she said 6 feet. So, she was tall. She pulled me into a huge hug, almost smothering me.

Sappy, what a name, looked at me skeptically. She was very tiny, probably not even 5 feet. She had ginormous blue eyes, deep red lips, with a cascade of dark brown hair.

"Honey, ya know ya don't haf ta weah trousahs. Ya could weah a skoit. It, uh, might improve ya chances wid Spot." I smiled at her, knowing that she was only trying to be helpful, and I got up.

"Thanks Sappy, but I like trousers. They're a lot easier to move around in. Also, it makes people pity me more, which means more papers are sold." Giggles eyes lit up.

"You're _so _smart! Why didn't I think of that?" I pulled my hair up into my hat. If my hair was anywhere near as beautiful as any of the girls around me, I would let it down. But, I had hair so thick I could barely run a hairbrush through it, and it was the color of dirt. There was a little bit of an awkward silence, as the girls tried to think of something to say, when my stomach growled. Giggles burst into, well, giggles. She was soon on the ground, unable to stop.

"There she goes again. She won't stop for a while now. Let's go." Sappy took my hand and pulled me into the washroom. As Giggles lay on the floor in hysterics, Notes and Sappy helped me get dressed.

"Song, you'd look great in dis skoit I have. Why don't ya weah it?" Notes handed it to me with a sparkle in her eyes. I sighed.

"Cards, honey, maybe a liddle lipstick ta dose pale lips a yoahs and…" I cut them off with a wave of my hand.

"Thanks, girls. I really appreciate it, but I like the way I look right now. Weren't you at the party last night?" They nodded. "Well, I sang that song, about being beautiful, by being yourself. Not by putting on a pretty skirt or lipstick. But thanks. I really do appreciate it. The next time there's a party, I promise you can fix me up. Alright?" Notes smiled and nodded, whilst Sappy did not, and just patted my shoulder.

"Maybe den ya'll realize…" She trailed off as she left the room to get Giggles.

"Song, breakfast was ovah a while ago, but we'se saved ya sumtin. Come on down when you'se ready. We'se gotta get sellin. You'll meet da udders at lunch." And with that she left. I sighed as I looked in the mirror. I looked normal. It was time for my first day of selling. Yay. And then at lunch. Meet the Brooklyn girls. Hopefully they were all as kind as the three I had met so far. But I didn't get my hopes up too high. Yeah. Notes was nice, and so was Giggles and Sappy, sort of, but from the little I'd heard, the rest probably weren't going to just except me as their own just because Spot had. Well, I fixed my hat, tucked in my shirt, and walked to the door. Here goes nothing.

* * *

"Racetrack! Blink!"

Race watched as Jack came running across the street to greet them. His bag was empty after a good day, and Race could hear the coins jingling in his pockets. Yet Jack had a grim look on his face. He did not look happy.

"Da bastad ordahed me ta meet 'im on our side a da Brooklyn Bridge!" Blink's eyes widened in shock.

"He didn't!" Jack nodded indignantly. Race crossed his arms over his chest. He'd barely sold anything the whole morning, and now, it was almost lunch, and he'd have hardly anything to buy food with. He had his savings hidden back at the lodging house, but he wasn't going to break into them. Not from simple hunger pains.

"Whada youse think Race?" Race looked up, startled from his thoughts, and tried to think of something to say, but Jack spoke before he could.

"Race, ya don't look so good. Are you aright?" Race nodded, trying hard not to scowl. Jack looked at him for a moment longer then turned his attention back to Blink.

"I'm gonna do it, just so I can put dat Mr. Hoity-Toity in 'is place." Blink nodded, and Jack walked off, obviously fuming. Blink turned around to look at Race.

"Racetrack, ya scarin me. What's wrong?" Race looked up at Blink, whose visible eye shined with compassion. Race sighed, and stepped off the cliff.

"It's Song, Blink. She's killin me." Blink's eyebrows shot up.

"Da singing goil?" Race rolled his eyes.

"Nah, da one who bakes cakes at da bakery. Yes da singing goil." Blink sighed and looked uncomfortable.

"Isn't she wid Spot?" Race threw his bag of papes in the dirt.

"Yes, dammit, dat's why I'se mad!" Blink, stepped back.

"Oh," he said. Race sighed.

"Sarrry, aright. I'm a liddle highstrung." Blink gave a nervous laugh.

"A liddle?" Race gave a slight smile.

"Aright, a lot. Ya happy?" Blink grinned and put an arm around his friend.

"Yeah. C'mon let's get some food."

* * *

Spot set out with his usual amount of papes, determined to sell them quickly, wanting to be at the docks, good and ready for Mr. Harlem. He worked his way through all of his best "spots", his papes disappearing, and his mood changing for the better. He was the King of New York. No one could talk to him without his permission, let alone threaten him.

Papes sold, Spot made his way to the restaurant the Brookies frequented, _Marv's._ Most of his gang was there, discussing the latest headlines whilst eating, and few noticed as he bought his food and left. He sauntered over to the dock, to his throne of crates, and smirked.

Harlem had no chance.

* * *

"Aright! Ya doin good! Sell a couple moah and we's headin ovah ta Marv's."

I smiled in response to the Notes' compliment, and looked around for my next victim.

"Why, hello there, cupcake." I turned around quickly, the deep voice right behind me. "I'd like a paper, if you don't mind." The voice belonged to a very tall young man, with white blonde hair that was vaguely familiar to me. The face though; I shied away as soon as I saw it. A long thin nose and a half-smile. He cheeks were drawn, and I realized that overall, he was very skinny. When he spoke again it was shocking; the low voice did not fit his appearance.

"May I have a paper, miss?" I nodded, my hands quickly went to my bag, and I pulled out a paper for him. He nodded graciously and handed me a penny. He gave me another half-smile, and I could feel the chills go down my back. Something about the guy seriously creeped me out.

"Song, ya comin?" Notes shouted from across the street, and I quickly said goodbye, and ran gratefully to my friend.

"Who was that?" I looked back; he was still there, watching me. I shuddered.

"I don't know." Notes put her arm around my shoulder.

"Well, he's gone now. And we have some newsies to meet." I gulped. Oh yes. The girls. Time to meet them.

Notes opened the door to Marv's, which was very much like Tibby's, and we walked in. The place went quiet real fast.

"Hey, for all ya newsies who don't know, dis is Songboid or Cards, whichevah one ya like bettah." I waved a little, and then followed Notes around the diner, trying to match names to face.

"Dis is Raven, or some of us call 'er Crow." A girl with black hair eyed me, a cautious look on her face, not moving an inch when Notes laughed at her nickname. Next came a girl with tight little curls on her head. "Dat's Curly." I nodded. Not very creative on the name department now were we. "Dat's Mint." I didn't ask. I just knew that if I smelled her, she would've been all mint. "Dis is Bootstraps, and dat's Silvah." She pointed at the last girl, and I recognized her as the girl who'd been spit on in the distribution line. "And dat's bout it, cuz ya know Sappy and Giggles, and den Buttahfly and Alley Cat is out doing, stuff, fa Spot." She finished up, and the newsies went back to their food. There were a couple boys scattered around, but apparently most of them came in a little later, that way there'd be enough room.

"Excuse me? Who are you?" I whirled around, and my eyes widened in shock. A girl stood behind me, hands on her hips, red hair cascading down her back, and a scowl on her face. I stuck my hand out, trying to be friendly.

"I'm Songbird. Who're you?" The girl looked utterly repulsed and slapped my hand away. Then she came in closer.

"So, yoah da one who's been tryin ta steal my Spot." I gulped hard. Great. Spot's ex? Notes came up behind me.

"Red, leave 'er alone." The girl, Red, turned her gaze to Notes and gave her a glare. But Notes didn't back down. She seemed to be a leader of sorts to the Brooklyn Girls. Red shoved me away, with a snippy, "Fine." She turned around and walked out of Marv's. I turned to see Notes glaring at the door. She caught me looking at her and smiled sheepishly.

"Dat's Red. She's been in love wid Spot since forevah. She gets raddah jealous whenevah Spot gets a new goil." My ears perked up at that. Whenever Spot gets a new girl? My conversation with Verge came rushing back all at once and I sat down in the first chair I came across.

"Ya aright, Cards?" I nodded, my vision a little blurry. What if everything Verge had said had been true. Was Spot using me? I just didn't know.

* * *

Lunch at Tibby's was dull. As it had been since the day Song had come in and livened everything up. Since she'd thrown every wise guy comment right back at Race with one of her own, but better. Race sighed and picked at his food. Blink glared at him, shooting him an eat-your-food-right-now-or-I'll-force-it-down-your -throat look, and Race sighed again. He stuffed a few spoonfuls in his mouth then pushed the plate away. He couldn't eat anymore. He just sat there, a glazed look in his eyes. He had to see her again. Tell her how he felt. Maybe she really didn't know. He looked up, a little hope sparkling in his eyes. Was there still hope? He smiled a little. He had a plan.

* * *

Spot sat in his throne waiting. Most of his newsies had gathered, swimming in the cool water, or just sitting on the docks. He'd been right. It was a very hot day. And Harlem was taking his time.

"Spot! 'e's comin!" Butterfly ran by, coming briefly into sight, and then just as fast, out of it. Spot straightened and put on his I-don't-have-a-care-in-the-world face, and looked out over the docks.

"If it isn't Brooklyn himself." Spot turned at his voice. He hated that voice. The smooth, richness of his bass tambour.

"Harlem. Wouldn'ta expected ya to be out in dese parts." Spot kept an edge on his voice, showing he wasn't in the best mood. Harlem just smiled. That stupid smile that Spot hated as well.

"I just wanted to do a little talking with you, O leader of Brooklyn." Spot wanted to punch the guy in the face as he heard the scorn in his face.

"About what?" His glare said it all. But Harlem just shrugged.

"Oh, you know, boundaries and such." Spot raised an eyebrow. This guy wanted to talk about boundaries?

"Spot! I sold all my papers!" Song came running over to Spot. Spot didn't pay her any attention until she gasped. He shot her a quick look, but she wasn't looking at him. She was gazing at Harlem, a look of fear on her face. Harlem saw Spot's gaze shift and he turned and saw Song as well.

"Well, well, well, we meet again, cupcake." Song backed away. Spot grabbed Harlem's arm.

"Leave da goil alone. Are we gonna talk, or what?" Harlem tore Spot's hand away. He gave him a sneer.

"Yeah. This is what I've got to say. Keep your little spies out of Harlem, or they might not return in the best of shape." Harlem gave one last glare, and turned on his heels. Spot seriously considered killing him. But he didn't. He immediately went over to Song.

"How'd he know ya doll?!" Song looked taken aback.

"I met him while I was selling today. He bought a paper from me." Spot's eyes went back to Harlem, but he was gone. He turned back to Song.

"Stay away from him." He walked back to his throne. He was calling a meeting with Jack. That much was for sure.

"Buttahfly." The girl appeared immediately. "Take Cowboy and Storm da message. Meetin in Manhattan tomorrow. Oily." Butterfly nodded and left. Spot sat and brooded. Harlem was a pain in the ass. And Spot wanted to change that.

* * *

_Wow. That was the hardest chapter I've had to write yet. It seemed like it would never end. I'm sorry if it was dull. Hopefully the story will pick up. __ Even so, it would be awesome if you left me a comment to let me know what you thought. Thanx!_


	7. Confrontation

**Brooklyn Turned Queen**

_By: IHeartRace9_

_Hey fellas! I'm sorry it's been longer than usual, but I've been so freakin busy. I have barely even been on a computer, let alone had time to update my story. I'm sorry. Anyways, I like this chapter WAY more than the last one, and I'm excited to hear what you guys think of it! Enjoy! _

_Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. I do however own, Songbird/Cards, Candy, Storm, Harlem, Pest, Alley Cat, Dice, Raven/Crow, Mint, Curly, Red, Butch, Notes, Sappy, Giggles, __Butterfly, Bootstraps, and Silver. Credit for Verge goes to Racetrack's Goil. Thanx!_

* * *

After Harlem had gone, I left. I needed some time alone. Away from all males. Including Spot. Who had just walked away, to sit in his "throne". He didn't care that that guy, who'd been buying papers from me earlier, with his uppity class accent, and gentlemanly manner, was actually Harlem. My thoughts reeled as I walked along the water, and turned into the streets. Harlem was seriously creepy. Just incredibly so. Everything about him made my spine shiver. The way he treated me scared me like hell. I could tell that Spot hated Harlem's guts, but I wondered why. What had Harlem done? As I thought about Spot, my mind changed gears.

I was so confused. The first time I'd met him, he hadn't seemed to like me much, and we weren't so nice to each other. But then he helped me when I was desperate, and lastly he kissed me. He had to like me. He'd even told me so.

But then today, he treated me like he didn't care that Harlem scared me, he just wanted information from me. I really needed to talk to him. Especially since I still couldn't shake that nagging feeling, reminding me of Verge's sister. Ending her own life because of Spot. I needed to know the truth about her.

When my feet reached the front steps of the lodging house, I was shocked. I hadn't realized where I'd been going. I didn't want to go inside. My walk hadn't been long enough. But it was growing dark, and I was very surprised that I'd found my way here once; I was sure I would not be able to that again.

I pushed open the door, my thoughts leaving me not in the best mood. There were only a couple of boys sitting around downstairs. One, the buff guy from the distribution line, came running over to me. He had a strange look on his face, one mixed with regret and sadness.

"Ya Songboid, aintcha?" I nodded, feeling bad that I didn't know his name.

"I'se Butch. And I was wonderin if ya could give Notes a message fa me." I hid a smile as he fell into place. He was the guy Notes had thought I was that first night. I nodded again interested in hearing what he had to say.

"Could ya tell 'er I's so sorry? I nevah meant 'er no disrespect, and I'll do anytin, if she'' jus talk ta me again." I almost patted him on the head, he looked so devastated.

"Sure. Of course. I'll even put in a good word for you, alright?" A look of joy came onto his face, and he grabbed me into a hug, and I realized how much of a teddy bear he was.

"Danks so much!" I grinned at him and headed up the stairs.

My mood darkened as I passed the boys bunkroom and saw the male side of the Brooklyn newsies playing cards, wrestling, and sleeping around the room. I quickly climbed away. Spot had his own room on the story between the girls and boys, but I passed his door without a glance, still not ready to speak with him yet.

"Song, wheah ya been?" Giggles came over to me, slapping her arm around my shoulders, and dragged me over to a corner with some girls playing cards.

"We'se playin pokah. Ya wanna join?" I looked at the girls playing, all of them staring at me, waiting for my answer. Sappy, Sliver, and Raven sat there, and I sighed. I wanted these girls to like me, but I was no good at poker. And plus, I need to talk to Notes.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not really that good at cards, ya know?" Sappy raised an eyebrow.

"So, wheah'd ya get da name den?" I felt my smart-ass attitude come back a little, and I felt a bit more confident. Brooklyn had kind of squashed that.

"Cuz I'm so bad at 'em, goil," I said, mimicking her accent. I received an appreciative smirk from the other two girls, and Sappy backed off. Giggles sat back down, and I turned away, looking for Notes. I spotted her across the room, talking to a girl I didn't recognize. The girl was small, almost as small as Sappy. She was very slender, and in one sense she looked very fragile and frail, but in another way she seemed very sturdy, and balanced. It was a little disorientating. She was very alert I saw, for as Notes spoke to her, the girls' eyes roved the room. Eventually they landed on me, staring at her, and they stopped. She studied me, and Notes seemed to realize something had changed. Something had caught the girl's attention. She followed the small girl's gaze and saw me. She gestured me over.

"Song, come 'ere." I walked across the room, until I stood beside them.

"Song, dis is Alley Cat, Spot's main boidy. Cat, dis is Songboid, da newest Brookie." I stuck out my hand to shake, but she just kept on studying me, as if she could read my mind.

"She don't talk much," Notes said. I nodded, and Alley Cat walked away, my trance with her ending, and Notes turned to me.

"So, wheah'd ya go oilier taday? Ya disappeared aftah Harlem showed." I shrugged.

"I needed some time alone. Time to think." I saw Notes tense a little. "What?" She shook her head, and told me to go on. I did after a moment.

"I don't know what to make of Spot," I finally admitted. "Sometimes, he seems completely real about us, and other times it's like he doesn't care. Like today." Notes looked extremely guilty as she replied.

"Well, he is da leadah. His mind can't always be on ya." I looked her in the eye.

"Notes, what is wrong with you? You are acting very strange!" Notes sighed.

"I have no poker face," she said, sounding annoyed with herself. I just looked at her. She was holding something back, something about Spot. I needed to know.

"Song, do ya know anything about Spot? Who 'e is?" I thought for a moment, Verge's words ringing in my ears, and my heart started beating faster.

"Just a little. Notes, tell me what is bothering you." Notes sighed, took my hand, and pulled me to the bed farthest away from the other girls.

"Song, ya really wanna hear dis?" I nodded, almost against my will. "Song, he's a playah." She let that sink in for a moment before continuing. "I have nevah seen a goil he's been serious about. He always drops em, whenevah 'e gets boad. And…" She stopped, not wanting to go on. I had a feeling I knew what she was going to say, and I tried to keep my emotions at bay. She was confirming everything Verge had said.

"You think he treats me the same as all the rest?" Notes grimaced and took my hand. I nodded.

"Obviously we have some talking to do then." Notes' eyes widened. Apparently that wasn't something Spot's girls usually did.

"I'm going to find out if this is a game to him or not. If it is, I'll end it. No big deal." Notes squeezed my palm. She knew how hard it was going to be.

"Go get 'im goil." I smiled at her encouragement, and then remembered Butch. I replayed the scene to Notes and she half smiled, half grimaced.

"Great. Now I have guilt." She sighed and looked at me. "Good luck to us both! We're gonna need it!"

* * *

"Racetrack, come on! Play wid us!"

Racetrack sat on the fire escape smoking a cigar. He'd been feeling a little bit better since lunch, but he still wasn't in the mood for poker. He hadn't really been since Spot had been him. That bastard. If Race hadn't been so distracted by the kiss, he probably would have cornered Spot, demanding how he had cheated. Because there was no possible way that Spot could've beat him otherwise. Spot was just not that good.

"Race, come on. Please?" Blink had stuck his head out the window, and Racetrack sighed. He hated making Blink sad, but he knew he'd lose if he played. And he wasn't doing that again.

"Sorry Blink. Just not in da mood tanight." Now Blink sighed and disappeared.

"'e's not playin fellas. An I think I'll set dis one out too." Blink climbed out onto the fire escape and sat down next to Blink. Race offered him his cigar but Blink shook his head.

"Ya won't convert me, Race." Race gave a toothy grin. He'd tried to get Blink to take a drag for a very long time, but Blink always refused. He didn't want to die, he said.

"So, still thinkin bout Songboid?" Blink watched for Race's reaction, but Race had a poker face, like usual.

"Ya always dat good at readin people, Blink?" Blink rolled his eyes at Race's attitude. He turned around and closed the window, giving them some privacy.

"Race, you gotta do sumtin. Eeder tell 'er how ya feel, and see if she likes ya, or forget bout her." Racetrack scowled.

"It ain't dat easy, Blink! Owse I sposed to fuhget about 'er, when she's takin up every inch of me mind? Huh? Ya know why I don't wanna ask 'er? Cuz Ise scared Blink. Ise scared. What if she denies me? She's datin Spot, Blink. If she says dat, if she tells me, she doesn't like me dat way…" He trailed off, taking a long drag from his cigar, his eyes closed. Blink didn't speak. Race waited a few moments, calming down, before going on.

"But, don't worry bout me, Blink. Don't worry. I'm tellin 'er. Tamorrow. When Spot's ovah heah, talkin ta Cowboy, Ise gonna go ovah and talk ta her. Lay ma cards on da table." Blink nodded.

"Well, I hope she sees who really cares bout 'er." Race nodded.

"Me too, Blink. Me too."

* * *

Spot sat in the boys' bunkroom, playing a game of poker, trying to get a certain aggravating newsie leader out of his head. He'd scheduled a meeting with Jack and Storm tomorrow, so he didn't need to think about it anymore. He played some cards, and looked around the room. Great. Red had walked into the room, eyes roving, and finally, landing on Spot, she grinned. She ran over to him and plunked herself down next to him.

"Hey baby," she said, slipping her arm around his. Spot undid their arms and looked at her.

"Red, go back ta da goils' room." Red scowled at his response.

"Spot, don't be like dat. Why can't I stay?" Spot didn't even look at her this time.

"Cuz I said, dat's why."

"Why's da new goil allowed in 'ere den?" Spot looked up now to see Songbird talking to Dice across the room. Spot met her gaze, and she did not smile at him. Spot pulled Red's pointed finger down, and pushed her off the seat, not too gently.

"I said, git outa heah. I don't wanna talk ta ya right now, Red." He watched as Red stormed out of the room, stopping only to spit some nasty comment at Song. Song looked back at Spot again, and gave him a look of disdain, and returned to speaking with Dice. Spot scowled now. What was with her?

The game ended quickly, and he strode over to Song.

"Hey, doll." Song didn't look at him first. She finished what she was saying to Dice, and then turned.

"Hi." Spot raised an eyebrow.

"Ya wanna talk?" Song nodded after a moment, and followed Spot out of the room, and up the stairs. He opened his door for her, and they went in. He closed the door and went over to the end of his bed. He sat on it, and looked up at his "goil". She stood, arms crossed, not the happiest look on her face.

"Sumtim boderin ya?" Song rolled her eyes.

"Spot, I'm going to get to the point. Is this just a game to you?" Spot kept a blank face, not showing his surprise.

"A coahse not, Songboid. Wheah'd ya get dat idea?" Song didn't uncross her arms.

"Spot, I know about all the other girls. I know that you just like a girl to play around with. I'm not that kind of girl. So, I want to know, if you really do care, or am I just a toy?" Spot's jaw almost dropped at her assessment; this girl was not the girl he thought she was going to be. He thought quickly, about her, about the bet with Dice, and about what he had said. _She'll be easy._ He stood up, and walked over to her. Song looked at him warily.

"Songboid, I _do _care. A lot. I don't deny what I've done in da past. But youse different." He put a look a compassion on his face and reached his hand out but she backed away.

"Spot, I don't understand you. Sometimes I think what you just said is true, but other times, it's like you don't even know me, or care to." Spot sighed dramatically.

"Song. Doll. Ise da leadah of da Brooklyn newsies. I get distracted sometimes, and Harlem is killin me right now. I have ta take care a him, and dat's taking up a lot of my focus." He paused for a minute, debating whether or not to take the plunge. "Ise sorry." Song raised an eyebrow.

"I don't say dat too often, aright. Ya undahstand?" Song studied him, and Spot put all he had into making himself look completely hers. Finally she lowered her gaze with a sigh.

"Alright." Spot smiled, making sure it didn't look arrogant.

"Good. I've been wantin ta do dis all day." He stepped forward, and taking her head in his hands, he kissed her. Shocked, she didn't respond at first, and then she seemed to think for a moment, deciding if she'd believe him or not. Then she kissed him back, and Spot could tell she was very much relieved, and he smiled to himself. He still had it. No girl could ever resist him.

* * *

The next morning I woke with a smile on my face. The world felt so much better, and my worries about Spot were gone. He had assured me he did care for me, and he'd looked so sincere. I'd never seen him like that. If I couldn't believe that, what could I?

I was already dressed, having slept in my clothes, and I quickly ran a brush through my hair, and braided it down my back. The other girls were up, all doing different things and I waved at Notes as she went to the door. She gave me a smile and then turned to the rest of the rooms.

"Aright, two minutes befoah we head out!" The girls scrambled to do last touchups, and we all gathered at the door.

After we bought our papers, I had moved on to 35 papers now, we split up. Notes had agreed to sell with Butch, who looked ecstatic. Giggles and Sappy had already left, and none of the other girls offered to let me go with them, so I decided to sell alone. I walked around spying out the gullible people, and attacked them, my cries and pleas usually landing a penny.

About an hour after I started selling, I felt a tap on my shoulder, and I whirled around, hoping to God that it was not Harlem again. Instead I was shocked to see Racetrack standing there.

"Racetrack?" He smiled.

"Ya remembered me name? Aw, I'se 'onored." I lifted an eyebrow.

"Yes, it was very hard to do. You should be very grateful." He gave a small laugh.

"So, Song, ya sellin wid anybody taday?" I shook my head. Spot had wanted to, but he'd had that leader meeting about Harlem.

"Ise goin ta da races. Ya evah been?" I shook my head, a smile on my face. I had never been, but they sounded incredibly exciting.

"Well, ya wanna come?" I nodded eagerly. He grinned, and we made our way to Sheepshead. He obviously was a known person there, as he easily wiggled us into the stands without paying a cent, and we were soon hawking our headlines to the crowd. He was great, and no one could tell if he was telling the truth about the headlines because he had such a good poker face. I didn't do so well, as everyone could see me, so I couldn't do my sad story. I tried making up headlines, and Racetrack had a good laugh at my creativity, but it was alright. I liked his laugh. It was really infectious, and we laughed a lot.

The horses were beautiful, and I wished that I was a boy and could become a jockey. Once Racetrack's papers were sold we sat down to watch the end of a race. He told me of his dream to become a jockey, and I smiled.

"Why can't you? You're small." He rolled eyes.

"Danks." I laughed, and I saw him smile. I could tell something was on his mind and I asked him about it. He just shrugged it off though, and stood.

"Come on," he said. "Let's sell dose papes a yoahs." I grinned and followed his lead.

* * *

After selling practically all her papes for her, Race took Song to Marv's for a late lunch. The day had been amazing, and he actually felt confident about telling her. Telling her how he felt. He wanted to do it at just the right moment, and in exactly the right way, so as not to put pressure on her, or make her feel like she was cheating on Spot. He just wanted to clue her in, and give her a choice. He felt like he was being more than fair. But first, lunch.

When they got there, there wasn't a newsie in site. They'd all eaten lunch already, and Race sat down across from Song and perused the menu. He wanted to offer to buy Song's lunch for her, but she might think he was trying to make it into a date, and he didn't want that. He'd already sold her papes for her. They ordered, Song spending most of her money, and Race just buying a small bowl of soup. His stomach wasn't in the best of shape.

"So, ya like da races?" Song smiled her beautiful smile, her one dimple popping up, and she nodded.

"They were great! Today's been my best day of selling yet." Race smiled, those words so sweet to his ears. Everything she'd said all day had told him maybe. Just maybe.

"So, Race, you never answered my question. Why can't you be a jockey?" Race looked at her; he was a little surprised she'd remembered their earlier conversation. He'd changed the subject, not wanting to get serious, but he would be asking her serious questions in a moment, so maybe this was a good lead up.

"Well, I guess Ise scared." Song didn't say anything for a moment.

"Oh." Race shrugged, like it was no big deal.

"I actually was trainin ta be one when I was youngah," he told her. "But a few yeahs ago, I had a fall, and, I dunno, I jus couldn't get back on da hoase again." Song reached her hand across the table and took Race's hand.

"Racetrack, you can't let that one fall conquer you." Race looked up into her eyes, burning with sincerity. He'd tried telling himself that for years, but it had never worked. But hearing her say it, the way she did, made him nod.

"I guess you'se right." Song nodded deftly, and squeezed his hand.

"I am right. You told me you gotta do what you love. And you can't be a newsie forever. What if you're missing out on the best thing in your life?" Race sighed, because she was right in all aspects. If she wanted him to be a jockey, just as much as he did himself, and she'd be behind him, he could climb onto any horse. A smile crept onto his face.

"I'll do it den." Song's face broke into a wide grin.

"Yes!" Race laughed as a waiter put their food down in front of them. Song dug into hers, while Racetrack slowly sipped his soup.

"Songboid," he began. She looked up from her food, and raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah?" Race sighed, running his hand through his hair. His nerves had caught up with him.

"I was wonderin sumtin." Song put her food down, sensing Race's seriousness.

"What is it?" Race opened his mouth to ask it. Ask her the question, and get it over with, when the door to Marv's slammed shut behind them.

"Spot!" Race turned his head to find Spot standing beside them, looking suspiciously down at them.

"What's dis?" Song smiled as she stood to give him a hug.

"Ah, nothing, we were just grabbing lunch before I came and found you. How was the meeting?" As Spot filled her in on a couple of unimportant things about the meeting, Racetrack zoned out. He had lost her chance. She had called their day nothing. And now he watched, as if in slow motion, as they kissed, once again, right in front of him. He quickly stood, his stupor breaking, and he squeezed past the two.

"I should be goin," he said, and he had to force himself not to run out of the restaurant.

* * *

After Race left Marv's, Spot had soon followed, taking Songbird back to the lodging house, and promising to take her out to dinner later that evening. For now he had a meeting to attend. On his way to the designated rendezvous point, he thought about the scene he'd walked into earlier.

He'd walked past Marv's, not originally planning on going in, but through the window he'd seen Song and Race sitting at a table for two, holding hands. Song had been saying something to Racetrack, and they were gazing into each other's eyes. Spot had not liked that. He'd immediately gone in to stop it. Song had brushed it off as nothing, but Spot had seen Race's face, and Race had looked pathetically devastated. He'd obviously been about to tell her something.

Spot rolled his eyes. Of course. Race was in love with her. Well, that needed to end. He would get nowhere with Song, if Racetrack was showing up to charm her away from Spot, the King of Brooklyn. He'd have to have a talk with him. But that was for later. He had reached the spot, and he looked around, his birdies sure to appear any moment.

Butterfly flitted over to him almost instantly, and Alley Cat came out of the shadows. Spot had a job for them.

"Buttahfly, Cat, ya ready foah what I got?" They both just looked at him. They were always ready.

"Aright, Buttafly, ya still a kid. Use dat to ya advantage. I want ya to talk to all da baby newsies in Harlem. Weasel anything ya can outa dem, and get back ta me. Dis'll be dangerous, ya hear? If dey catchya, Harlem means business." Butterfly rolled her eyes and was gone. Spot smiled grimly. That kid was someone he could always count on. Now he turned to Alley Cat.

"Cat, yoah job is even worse. Youse up foah it?" Cat crossed her arms over her chest and Spot nodded.

"Good. I don't have nuttin specific foah ya, I jus need ya ta find out, what da hell Harlem is doin. Whatevah ya do, be careful, undahstand?" Alley Cat was gone before he said another word. Those two girls were not only his main two spies, they were his only ones. No one but he knew that of course; everyone else thought he had a whole network of them. But Butterfly and Alley Cat were good. Fantastic, actually. And they would bring him back the information he needed.

* * *

_Soooooo, what you think? I really do love that chapter. I think Race is finally getting some character in there. :D And I think Songbird is going back to her original self. And Spot, well, he's playing master puppeteer. Anyways, let me know what you think in a review pretty please! Thanx! 3_


	8. The Fight

**Brooklyn Turned Queen**

_By: IHeartRace9_

_Hey all of you awesome readers! I am so so so sorry that this chapter took me so long to update! I have been incredibly busy the last couple of weeks. My family is moving and all I've been doing is pack, pack, and pack some more. Plus this was a really hard chapter to write, and I'm still not sure I even like it. I was trying really hard to keep true to all the characters, but it was a hard challenge. Also, this is a shorter chapter because it's only one round of everyone, instead of two. Like I said, I've been really busy, but I figured you guys should have an update, so I'll let you have as much as I'd written. I hope you like it! Things are going to be moving along very quickly after this. :D And I promise to write as much as I can in the next couple weeks. Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: You know da drill. I own all the OCs, and all the people from Newsies, belong to Disney. Amen. Just read da story!_

* * *

"Songboid, gimme da hairbrush, will ya?"

I handed the community hairbrush over to Notes, who was standing in front of a mirror, fixing her bangs. Tonight was a big night for her. She was going to tell Butch she'd go with him to Medda's dance. She was in that very pretty skirt she'd wanted to lend me, and she'd done her hair up beautifully in pins, and then carefully applied some makeup. But now her bangs were popping back out.

"Notes, I like them like that! I think you should leave them down." Notes didn't answer at first, playing with her bangs a minute longer before turning to me.

"You really think so?" I nodded eagerly. They did. She was a real beauty under all that street dirt.

"You look really great," I said, and she gave me a hug.

"Thanks, Songboid. Now, is youse ready fa yoah big night?" I shrugged, always trying to hide my nerves. I was singing again. Spot had scheduled the usual poker night in Brooklyn, and he'd asked if I wanted to sing for it. I was anxious, but I remembered what Race had told me, and I'd agreed with Spot to do it. Notes had been very excited, and she'd helped me pick my song. We'd grown a lot closer in the last few days, her being one of the few nice Brookies. Most of the other girls really didn't care about me one way or the other, except for Red who hated me. But it didn't really matter to me. It had nothing to do with them.

Notes had gotten me to clean up, but I'd said no makeup and definitely no dress this time. Just a nice skirt. And I'd let Notes do my hair, so it looked nice too. Basically, I looked a lot nicer than usual.

"Aright, Songboid, ya ready?" I turned to see Notes at the door of the girl's bunkroom, waiting for me. The others had already gone downstairs. We would be the last to arrive. I ran over to join her, and I took her hand. Together, we walked down the stairs together.

It was very loud in the room, with so many people crowded in. I could smell a lot of smoke, and there were already a bunch of games going. Spot sat in his usual throne at the back of the room, watching everything happen, his stony leader look on his face. Notes gave my hand a squeeze and flashed me a smile, before heading over to join Butch's table. She sat down next to him, and when he saw her, his face became overjoyed.

Meanwhile, I walked to the front of the room, turned to all the people and crossed my arms over my chest.

"Hey! All you newsies!" I shouted so everyone could hear. Most of them looked at me, though they didn't look too happy at being interrupted. But Spot had told me what they'd listen to.

"I'm singing a song for you all, so you better show some respect and quiet down!" A few laughed, but most just nodded and went back to their games. Not too bad. I looked at Notes who grinned at me, and then at Spot who tipped his head in my direction. I lifted my chin up, and smiled to myself. I didn't need to worry. I was singing.

"_Can't close my eyes  
I'm wide awake  
Every hair on my body  
Has got a thing for this place  
Oh, empty my heart  
I've got to make room for this feeling  
It's so much bigger than me_

It couldn't be anymore beautiful  
I can't take it in"

I looked around the room, and my mind was at peace. I wasn't nervous anymore. I didn't care what others though. I loved to sing.

Weightless in love...unraveling  
For all that's to come  
And all that's ever been  
We're back to the board  
With every shade under the sun  
Let's make it a good one

It couldn't be anymore beautiful  
It couldn't be anymore beautiful  
I can't take it in

Nobody was booing, no one was throwing whiskey at me, and I think I even saw a few smiles come my way. I would never give up singing, ever, again.

Laaaaaaaa ohhhhhhh  
I can't take it in

Laaaaaaaaa ohhhhhh  
I can't take it in  
Woahhhhhhh

It couldn't be anymore beautiful  
It couldn't be anymore beautiful  
I can't take it in

More that I wonder  
More than I ever needed  
Woahhhhhh  
More that I wonder

Oooooohhhhhh

I finished, and I was pleased to see that most of the newsies had shut up to listen. When I bowed, I received applause from a lot of them, and even some begrudging nods from the Brookies. I felt so good after singing though that I couldn't help but smile.

As I made my way over to Spot, I saw a face that I hadn't seen in a few days. Racetrack sat playing cards with Dice, and they looked as if they were having a pretty intense discussion. I was glad Race had heard me though. For some reason I hoped that he was proud.

"Beautiful, doll." I'd reached Spot's throne, and he gave me a smirk. "Like always." I didn't know how to respond to that so I just smiled.

"Thanks." He nodded towards the chair nearest to him.

"Take dat one." I obeyed and he smirked again, as I sunk into my chair, sighing. I sat up, an eyebrow raised.

"What are you smirking at?" He returned my raised eyebrow and rested his hand on his cane.

"Ah, just dat one liddle song gets ya all tired out, dat's all, I sweah." I stared at him a moment before responding.

"Well, excuse me, Mr. I-sit-on-my-throne-all-day-doing-nothing-but-boss- people-around-and-smirk-at-them. I didn't know that was much harder." Spot just shrugged and gave me a sincere look.

"Doll, dat is exhaustin stuff." I laughed, and he leaned back, his smile back on his lips. I was happy with how well we were getting along. We hadn't fought in days!

As I thought this, I turned to look around the rest of the room. I found Notes and Butch's table easily, and laughed as I saw them. They were currently making out. So much for taking it slow, Notes. Next I found Race's table. Except he wasn't there anymore. Dice sat alone, and I caught his eye. He looked very unamused and he looked at the door, and then back at me. Then he did it again. I gave him a slight nod, and turned back to Spot.

"Hey, Spot, I need some fresh air. I'll be back in a bit." Spot nodded.

"As ya wish, doll." I smiled my thanks, and then pushed my way out. I saw Dice again, and this time he mouthed the word, "Go." I nodded again and headed for the door. Obviously something was wrong. What was up with Racetrack?

* * *

Race lit a match and slowly brought it to his face. He waited until the cigarette caught, then shook it out. A cool night breeze whistled through his curly hair, but it felt good on his flushed face. Racetrack tried to take deep breaths, the smoke soothing him a little. He needed to calm down now; otherwise he had a very bad idea of what he would do to that bastard, Spot Conlon.

Dice had told Race he needed to talk, and when Dice said that, Race knew that he meant it.

The two had originally met many years ago as boys, playing in a poker match. Race had beat Dice easily, but was kind about it, and they'd become friends quickly, even though they lived in different boroughs. Usually it was Racetrack who called the meetings, and those were just to catch up. If Dice wanted to "talk", Race knew it was about something serious.

So, the game they'd played tonight had just been a cover. Race hadn't even looked at the cards Dice had dealt him. He'd just played at random, too shocked and mad to do anything but listen, as his friend had told him everything, in a hushed voice. What he'd said had made Race's blood boil. Songbird was going to end up broken-hearted and severely hurt. And Spot wouldn't even care. Songbird meant nothing to him. Just like all the others.

Race sucked some more smoke into his lungs, making him cough. How could Spot do this? He knew Spot liked to play around with girls, but how could he break one's heart, just like that?

"Racetrack?" Speak of the devil. Songbird's voice drifted out from behind him. Race stared stonily in front of him. He didn't answer.

"Racetrack? Are you alright?" He wanted to ignore her, but that worried voice struck his heart. He sighed.

"A coahse Ise aright. Why wouldn't I be?" Songbird sat down beside him, causing his heart to race.

"You disappeared. Why?" Racetrack concentrated on his cigarette. Stay. Calm. Don't even think about Spot.

"Race?" Nope. Couldn't do it.

"What?!" Songbird's eyes widened at Race's snap.

"Race, what's bothering you?" How could she be so clueless? He stood forcefully, and ground his cigarette out with his heel. He looked down at her, just sitting there.

"What's bodderin me?" He watched as her face creased in worry at the tone of his voice. But it was too late now. He wasn't just upset.

"What's bodderin me, is dat Spot Conlon is playin ya wid everything 'e's got, and ya don't seem like ya've even noticed!" Song's jaw dropped a little, but Racetrack wasn't finished.

"Songboid, it's all jus for fun to him! He was boahed, needed a distraction, so he decided ta break youse! All he caehs about is dat he can have any goil in New Yawk! He don't caeh nuttin bout youse! Nuttin!" He threw his hat on the ground and turned away from Songbird, hands in his hair again, breathing heavily.

Songbird meanwhile stood, lips pursed, and eyes narrowed.

"Racetrack." He looked at her slowly when she said his name. She did not look happy.

"I understand why you're concerned. A couple of the girls felt that way too. But I talked to Spot. We had a long talk. And I believe what he told me." She crossed her arms over her chest.

"I'm glad that you're looking out for me, Race, but I have to decide these kinds of things for myself." Race scowled.

"Songboid, I've known Spot foah a long time. Much longah den you. And he's nevah been wid a goil longah den a week, cept once, and dat goil had da woist endin a dem all. Ya shouldn't trust im!" Now Song started shouting.

"Well I am! People can change! And I saw Spot's face when he told me he cared. And I choose to believe what he said!"

Race was about to yell why couldn't she see the truth in _his _face and believe _him_ when the the door to the lodging house open.

"What's dis?"

* * *

Spot stood still, his cane in his hands, a glare on his face, looking back and forth between Song and Race. Songbird looked about ready to cry, and Racetrack looked about to blow his top. He stepped slowly down the steps.

"I said, what's, dis?" Neither of them answered. He stalked over to Songbird, but she wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Song, tell me what 'e said to ya? Did he hoit ya?" Songbird shook her head.

"I'm fine. He didn't do anything. We were just talking, that's all." Again Spot looked back and forth.

"About?" Song put her hand on his shoulder.

"It was nothing. Let's go inside." She had no poker face.

"It was about me, wasn't it?" Song's eyes widened slightly, but she shook her head profusely.

"Den tell me what you was talkin bout." Song remained silent, her head sinking lower.

"Yeah, we was talkin bout youse, Conlon." Race spoke up, finally. He took a step forward, closing the gap between them.

Spot turned so he was facing Racetrack full on.

"And we wasn't ezactly talkin bout yoah good leadership skills eadah." Spot's eyes narrowed and his hand tightened on his cane. But Race didn't back down. They both knew what he meant, and Spot was furious that Race had interfered. He would not let this go unanswered.

"Go inside, Songboid." Spot's eyes never left Race.

"Why?"

"Because I said so." He could hear Songbird stiffen behind him.

"No." Spot sighed in annoyance.

"Alright den," and he swung a fist at Race. It connected and it sent Racetrack reeling as Song screamed.

"Spot, stop it!" Spot ignored Song's request. He took a step forward as Race got up, hand clutching his jaw. Spot threw another fist, but Racetrack was ready for this one, and he dodged out of the way. He quickly turned and rammed his head into Spot's stomach. They both toppled over and Spot rolled over on top of Race.

"Git 'im Spot!"

Spot looked up to see a group peering out of the lodging house, and gathering around him and Race. Most of them were his boys. And they were all cheering him on. There was no way he could back out of this now. He punched Race again, this time in the eye. Racetrack gasped in pain, but kneed Spot in the back, causing his to lose his balance. Race quickly pushed him off, and leapt up. Spot stood, eyeing Racetrack. They circled each other for a moment, and Spot vaguely noticed that he couldn't spot Song anymore.

Then Race lunged at him. Spot blocked him though, hitting him with his cane, and sending him to the ground. All of the sudden he felt hands gripping both of his arms tightly.

"Spot, stop dis, right now." Spot could hear Dice's voice, full of anger, and he stopped pulling.

"Let me go," he muttered, as Race slowly got to his feet. Dice didn't loosen his grip, and Spot saw all his Brookies watching.

"I said, lemme go," he spat at his friend angrily. He was still roaring to go, but Dice held him, and Race glared daggers.

"Spot, dat's enough!" Spot didn't answer. He didn't answer because he saw Jack. Jack didn't look mad, like Spot'd expect him to. He just looked incredibly shocked and hurt. Spot's gaze moved to Racetrack and he realized how bad he looked. Race's eye was bruising, and Spot knew it would be a big shiner tomorrow. His lip was bleeding, and there was a bright red mark where Spot'd smashed his cane. He realized how mad he'd been, and in that moment, he was glad he had a second as smart as Dice.

"Fine," he spat, and jerked his arms away from Dice.

"Higgins," he said, walking towards Racetrack, aware of all the newsies around him. "Get ya sarry ass outa Brooklyn! And ya bettah stay out!" He stuck his nose in Race's face, not quite finished. Race had his fists ready, but Spot was done fighting.

"Stay away from me goil." His cane shot out and hit Race in the chest, knocking him into the pavement again, and Spot stormed back into the lodging house.

* * *

_:O What you guys think? Please let me know if Spot and Race were realistically portrayed. I tried my best, but this fight scene was just not coming to me. Please review and tell me everything! 3 3 3_


	9. Breakups and Stables

**Brooklyn Turned Queen**

_By: IHeartRace9_

_Hey y'all, finally I'm back. Sorry. I'm terrible, I know. It's been too long. But I got really annoyed with my writing for this story, and when that happens it's really hard to write for it. And then I was at flute camp for over a week (which was the most amazing thing ever by the way). Anyways, I finally made myself do it, just cuz I love you guys for giving my story a chance :D I know the last chapter wasn't great, and you guys are tired of Song (I am too), but don't worry. Lots of shtuff happens in this chapter. So, read on. _

_Disclaimer: I own all my characters. Disney owns all theirs._

* * *

I sat in a corner, fists clenched. Words. So many words ran through my head. I wanted to believe him so much. So much. But how could he do such a thing? I heard the door slam shut, and Spot stormed over to his bed. He didn't see me as he ran a rag over his cane, cleaning the blood, Racetrack's blood, off its shiny surface. I slowly stepped out of the shadows and walked closer to him. I watched him, my anger yearning to break free.

"Spot Conlon."

He looked up at the sound of my voice, and sighed heavily when he saw the look on my face.

"Doll-"

I cut him off.

"Don't "doll" me, Spot. I am not in the mood." I continued to glare at him, my arms crossed over my chest.

"I told you to stop. I begged. Why the hell didn't you?" Spot looked at me for a moment before replying.

"Songboid, ya don't undahstand. Ya haven't been a newsie dat long. He was crossin boundries, and as da leadah I had ta make shore 'e didn't do it again." I gaped at him.

"So you beat him up? You could've just said something! Told him what he did wrong at least!" Spot rolled his eyes.

"He was askin foah it! I was jus defendin youse, doll. I don't see why youse so upset." I blew up.

"Defending me? I said everything was fine. Racetrack was just being a good friend," I said, frowning deeply at him. "And I can take care of myself, thank you." I turned to go, thoroughly disgusted with Spot.

"Songboid, don't be like dat." I slowly turned back around, hands on my hips.

"What? Don't be mad because you beat up my friend? Don't be mad because you act like I can't take care of myself? Don't be mad that you're not even sorry?" But Spot wouldn't cave in either.

"I ain't sorry bout Race. He was lookin foah a fight, and dat's what he got. I am sorry ya had ta see it, but Ise told youse ta go inside."

A tear worked its way down my cheek. I yelled at him.

"You told me to go inside? That's what you're sorry about?!" I looked at him in utter disgust and stormed towards his door, intent on leaving him. I stopped, my hand on the doorknob, taking a few deep breaths.

"Spot, I think I need some time. Time without you, alright? I really don't know if this is going to work out." I slammed the door without giving him a second glance. I couldn't believe him.

* * *

Racetrack Higgins ran through the streets of Brooklyn, away from the newsie lodging house. He wasn't going to do this. Nope. He just couldn't do it anymore. He was done with the newsies.

He started crossing the Brooklyn Bridge, but stopped halfway, looking out into the deep, dark water far below. His lip throbbed, and he could feel caked blood on it. His eye was swollen shut now as well. He tugged on his hair desperately trying to think of what to do. He could not deal with the newsies right now. He needed to get away from them. Away from her.

Then it came to him. It was ironic, because it was what Songbird had suggested to him that wonderful day that seemed so long ago. He would go back to jockeying. If they wouldn't take him right away, he could at least be a stable boy. He still had some connections at Sheepshead, so it wouldn't be that hard to get a job. Anyways, he remembered pretty much everything from his younger years.

Racetrack ran the rest of the bridge, but stopped before he stepped off. He adjusted his hat and took a deep breath. If he didn't go back now, he knew he never would.

He didn't look back.

* * *

He heard his door open, but he didn't even look to see who had dared enter without knocking.

"What da hell was dat, Spot?" Dice came to stand in front of his leader. It was the first time Spot had ever seen Dice angry. It was a little scary. He knew that Dice and Race'd been friends, but he didn't think they'd been that close. Obviously he was wrong.

"He was yellin at dag goil. I couldn't jus stand dere." Dice gave a perfected eye roll.

"Y don't even care bout her, Spot!" Spot continued to shine his cane.

"Dat doesn't matah. If I wanta bed 'er, she's gotta think I'll always defend 'er."

"Oh, is dat why I jus heard her tellin Notes she broke up witchoo? Ya plan seems ta be woikin splendidly." Only now Spot looked at him, but in shocked anger.

"She said what?!" Dice smirked a little.

"Foist time a goil broke up witcha, is it?" Spot stood, and shoved past Dice to stand at his window.

"She's not serious. Once I give 'er a good apology she'll cave." He heard Dice sigh behind him.

"Spot, why dontcha jus let 'er go?" Spot eyed Dice. He looked tired.

"Youse da one who started da bet." Dice shrugged.

"And now Ise endin it. Spot, she's not one a dose shallow goils who has a man every uddah night."

"So? Like ya said, I don't caeh. Just moah of a challenge. And since when do youse caeh bout me goils?" Spot sneered. Dice stiffened.

"Spot, she's different, and youse know it. You'll really hoit 'er if ya go troo wid it." Spot scowled and turned to face Dice.

"Ya don't caeh nutting bout her! Ya jus doin dis foah Racetrack, cuz 'e likes 'er." He paused.

"He don't jus like 'er! Spot, Race loves 'er, and if ya do dis, ya'll break da both a dem." Spot glared.

"Boy, Dice, I didn't know ya liked Racetrack so much. If ya doin dist ta impress him, ya might as well stop. He aint inta guys like dat." He saw the swing coming and he quickly dodged his best friend's punch. He grabbed Dice's wrist, and held it steady. He saw the hurt in Dice's eyes. _Slow down,_ he told himself.

"Dice," he said, carefully. He didn't want to lose his only real friend. "Ise sorry dat ya upset bout dis. But I gotta do it now. What would it look like ta all my newsies if I backed down now? Dice, ya know ya my only friend. Ya me bruddah. Can'tcha undahstand?" He put on his most sincere face, and Dice soon broke.

"Spot, I really don't agree wit youse. And Ise still mad dat ya won't give 'er up." He paused, sighing. "But I won't desert youse." Spot smiled.

"Dat's ma boy." He slapped Dice on the back, and pointed to the fire escape.

"Caeh for a smoke?"

* * *

The next day felt surprisingly good. I'd always heard that breakups left you very upset. But besides being mad that Spot had fought Race, I felt good. Free. I sold my papes alone, my mind not really on the headlines. I thought mostly about Spot. In one sense, I hoped Spot wouldn't apologize. My life would be way less stressful. Then again, I'd been with him practically since I'd become a newsie. I wasn't sure how I'd do without him. I wasn't sure if I could stay in Brooklyn if he accepted my breakup.

At lunch I wasn't hungry so I walked back to the lodging house. I didn't really want to deal with Red who had been trying to break me and Spot from day one. She would take this as a major victory

I closed the door behind me. I counted my papes as I headed up the stairs. Ouch. I hadn't done so well. Obviously I wasn't a natural as it took all my concentration to sell my papers.

"Aftah Medda's, tomorrow night." I was walking past Spot's room, and I heard the voice drift out. I stopped, intrigued.

"Spot, please. Don't." That was Dice. What were they talking about? I'd never heard those two argue before.

"Dice! Leave it be. Dis is me goil wese talkin bout. What? Ya jus mad cuz ya don't got one yaself." I heard Spot snicker. Talk about mean.

"Spot, ya know why Ise mad. Stop makin fun." Dice sounded serious, very serious. But he also sounded dejected.

"Dice. Stop worryin so much. Ya nevah caehed about all da uddah goils I bed. Dice, aftah tomorrah night, she'll go back ta Medda, cry foah a day or two, den find someone else. Jus like da rest. She don't belong here anyways." Dice said something back to him, but I didn't hear it. All I heard was the blood pounding in my ears. I nearly fell down the stairs as I ran away from him. The lying bastard.

I ran out of the lodging house and through the streets. I quickly made my way to the docks, and plunged my head into the ice cold water.

It was all fake. He cared less than nothing about me. And blast it all, I had believed him. And not my friends. I had trusted him. Not Notes; not Racetrack. Not Verge, who's sister was dead.

I had been such an idiot.

You'd think finding out your boyfriend was using you would make a girl mad. And, yeah, I was mad at Spot. But that compared nothing to the rage I felt towards myself. I literally felt a burning hatred seep through me, as I realized how dumb I'd been, living in my own fantasy. I saw Spot through the eyes of my friends, and I couldn't believe how I hadn't seen through his pretenses. How could I be so blind?

I wanted to die right then and there, just from self repulsion.

I dunked my head again and again, hoping the cold water would jar my brains back into working condition.

Alright. I needed to think. Yes, I currently loathed myself. But I needed to figure out what I was going to do.

But I couldn't think straight.

What should I do?

Racetrack. He'd been right. Completely and utterly right. And he was mad. But he was the best friend I had. Maybe he would help?

I left my papers by the dock, knowing I couldn't sell another pape. I got to Manhattan easily enough, and after that I just looked around for a newsie. The one with the eye patch, Blink, was the first I spotted.

"Blink, thank goodness! Have you seen Racetrack?" The tall boy eyed me warily, a frown on his face.

"Whadaya wanna see him foah?" I sighed. Great. He was also mad at me.

"It's about something really important." Blink crossed his arms over his chest.

"He's not 'ere."

"What do you mean?!" He sighed, no longer looking mad, just worried.

"He left," he said. "Said he's nevah comin back. He's moved on."

I gaped. He'd left?

"Blink, why didn't you stop him?" Blink scowled at me.

"He left a note. It seems he was a liddle upset aftah da fight he had witchoo and Spot." Blink was back to looking mad. I sighed, guilt overwhelmingly me, once again.

"Blink, I'm so sorry. Really I am. But this _is _important. Please, where did he go?" Blink looked me over, obviously debating if he could trust me.

"Songboid, if I tell youse, ya gotta promise ya won't hoit him. Anymoah den ya already have. And dere is ta be no yellin." I nodded to all of this, hoping that he would believe me. I needed to see Race; Blink had to get that.

"Aright," he finally said. "He's at Sheepshead. He's woikin dere now." I hugged him, so thankful he'd told me, and then I ran. Back to Brooklyn. Through the streets Race had originally led me through. I finally arrived at the races and got in line at the box office.

"I need to speak to a Racetrack Higgins, please. Is he here?" The man behind the window raised an eyebrow.

"Da only Higgins we gots here, is Anthony Higgins." His real name?

"Is he on the shorter side with dark hair?" The man nodded.

"Go back outside, and take a left, and two rights, and you'll be at da stables. He should be dere." I nodded my thanks and then flew out the door.

* * *

"Good woik, Shackles. Ya such a good goil."

Racetrack led a beautiful black mare with white rings around her hooves into her stall. She whinnied lightly and a small smile appeared on Race's face. He'd forgotten how much he loved horses.

"You're looking good as well, Tony." Paul, Racetrack's trainer, was right behind them.

"You think you'll be ready to ride him soon?" Racetrack paused, trying to look calm. He was still frightened to death of climbing up onto a horse. Today he'd just been getting to know the horse, and leading her around, and stuff like that. But, he would need to actually get on her, and soon, if he wanted to work here. So he gave what he hoped was a confident smile to Paul, and nodded.

"I'm sure, Sir. Very soon." Paul smiled back and walked over to the door.

"Excellent! I'll just leave you two to each other then. See you tomorrow Tony." Racetrack raised his hand in goodbye, and only let his smile fade when the door had clicked shut. Racetrack let out a sigh, as he brushed Shackles down.

He was so scared. He hadn't ridden a horse, in fact touched a horse, since his fall. They'd always been such a comfort to him before, and they'd seemed like monsters after. Today, it took him quite a while just to touch the horse he'd been lent. It had turned out, of course, that Shackles was a lovely horse, and the two had become fast friends. But still. It was something completely different to actually ride her.

"Does she bite?" Racetrack started at her voice. But he did not turn around. He would not look at her. He kept stroking the horse's nose. He heard footsteps, and he could feel her beside him. He saw her hand stretch out, and slowly touch Shackles' neck. She petted the horse gently, and the silence for the next minute or two was torture. But he would not be the first to speak.

"Racetrack."

She said his name. And he looked at her. He couldn't help it. The way that girl said his name, the way it rolled off her tongue. Didn't mean he was happy with her. Just that no matter what he or she did, he couldn't stop being drawn towards her, like a magnet. His eyes locked onto hers and his eyebrows furrowed. Her face was unrecognizable. It was wrought with a mix of emotions, ones that he didn't like. He saw hurt, anger, hatred, sorrow, among other things. He continued staring at her, unable to turn away. What had happened since he'd last seen her?

"I'm sorry, Racetrack."

The words, uttered softly, slipped from her mouth, and Songbird's eyes dropped to the ground, shame radiating from her body. She would not look at him anymore.

"You were right." She shifted her feet, and wrapped her arms around herself. She wasn't crying, but Racetrack could tell it was taking all her strength not to.

"I was so blatantly selfish, and yet you still tried to help. But I didn't listen. So I deserved this. I really did." Racetrack's mind exploded. He'd done it. Spot had done her in last night, and this morning dropped her. Just like he'd always planned.

"When'd it happen? Last night?!" Songbird finally looked at him, but in confusion.

"I overheard him talking about it. It was set for tomorrow night. But how'd you know?"

Oh. Hadn't actually happened. She'd just gotten a slap in the face.

"What do ya think I was tellin youse last night?" Songbird's mouth opened into an O. Racetrack looked away, burying his face into Shackles' mane.

"Racetrack. I don't know what to do." Something inside Racetrack snapped. He loved this girl to pieces, but it obviously was not meant to be. She never saw as anything more than the person to come to in times of need. And she didn't listen to him until it was too late. He couldn't handle it anymore. If she wasn't going to love him the way he did her, then he had to end them now. He just couldn't take seeing her like this, and not being able to take her in his arms.

"Songboid, I can't help youse." He gave one last pat to Shackles, and started walking to the door.

"I tried ovah and ovah, but ya nevah listened. Instead ya chose Spot. Spot ovah me. So," he said, opening the door. "Go sleep in da bed ya made."

He realized how bad his words sounded after he'd said them, but it was too late. Songbird looked like she'd been punched in the gut, and Racetrack could see tears threatening to fall. But then she stiffened. She drew herself up, and then nodded. She took a deep breath and looked Racetrack in the eye.

"Alright then. I'll just leave. Thank you for your time." She turned and strode out the door. Right before she closed the door though, she turned again, this time her face soft.

"I _am_ sorry, Race."

Then she was gone.

* * *

"Did ya hear dat?"

Spot turned to look at the door and shrugged.

"Anyways, like I was sayin, aftah tamarrow night, ya won't have ta worry. She'll be gone, aright?" Dice wouldn't look at him. Spot rolled his eyes, but gave in, and changed the subject, slightly.

"So, ya still not askin anyone to da dance?" Dice shot him a look.

"What? I've nevah seen ya wit any goil. Is dere sumtin ya need ta tell me Dice?" Spot chuckled, and Dice just rolled his eyes.

"Dice! Cheeh up! Geez!" Dice shifted in his chair, obviously thinking. He looked conflicted and Spot sighed.

"Fine, gimme da silent treatment. But I do have sumtin important we gots ta talk about." Dice looked up, mildly intrigued.

"Harlem. Buttahfly and Cat still ain't back. Dat could jus mean dey're doin heavy duty spyin, but, Ise startin ta get worried. If deyse not back aftah da dance tomorrow night, I say Harlem's got em." Dice's face had paled, and he nodded.

"I most definitely agree."

* * *

_Sorry that last Spot bit was so short; I really had nothing for him until next chapter. But next chapter is finally where the good stuff starts, though I like Songbird a lot more in this chapter then last. My gosh, the end is coming up. Maybe a few more chapters! I hope you liked this one, and I am so very sorry for making you wait so long. That shouldn't happen again. I promise. By the way, if you haven't checked out my new short story called __**Tall Boy Smile**__ you should. It would make me hella happy if you read it and reviewed. I would prolly have the next chapter up in a week if you did. 3 Thanx!_


	10. Secrets Spilled

**Brooklyn Turned Queen**

_By: IHeartRace9_

_Hey people. So this is a shorter chapter, but I wanted to get it out of my system, before starting the beginning of the end. __ After this, everything picks up, and goes by quickly, I promise. Hope you enjoy! (And get a better sense of Dice!)_

* * *

I walked out of those stables knowing I had just lost my best friend. I slowly walked down the streets replaying the scene through my head. I had tried my best, and for a moment there, I thought he'd changed his mind. But I guess I'd wounded him too deeply. How I wished I could change the past. I tried reversing our situations. If he had gotten a girl, one that I knew was no good. I felt a pinch somewhere deep in my gut, that spread through my entire torso at the picture in my head of Racetrack with his arm around a girl. What the hell? I made myself stop walking down the road and rewound my thoughts. Since I'd known him, I'd never seen him with another girl, besides his sister. That image just seemed wrong. Except when it was me.

What?!

This was not happening. First of all, I had enough on my plate with Spot right now; I did not need another distraction. Secondly, Racetrack didn't want to see me anymore, and he obviously didn't care for me like that. There was no way I liked Racetrack. Not like that. No way. Not an option.

I started walking again, trying to think of something else. That was easy enough. What the hell was I going to do about Spot?!

"Songboid!"

I heard my name being shouted, and I looked up, hoping against hope that it was Racetrack.

It wasn't.

It was Dice.

"We need ta talk," he said, when he caught up with me. I raised my eyebrows. Was this Spot's way of "apologizing"?

"Spot's gonna try an bed ya tamorrah aftah da dance." My eyes widened. A little straight-forward? And why was he telling me this? I'd heard him planning with Spot about it.

"Dice, I know already. But, why do you care?" Dice gave me a puzzled look.

"How do youse know?" I didn't reply. He waited, but I held my ground. Finally he relented.

"Look, it's my fault Spot's doin dis, so I jus wanted ta warn youse. Aright?" I just stared at him.

"Your fault? What are you talking about?" Dice's tough guy face faltered, and he looked ashamed.

"When ya foist showed up, I bet Spot he couldn't bed ya. Dat was befoah I knew ya. Youse different." My mouth had dropped. What. The. Hell.

"Ise real sorry, Song."

I felt rage boil up inside me, at what he had done. I wanted to yell and scream at him. How could he do such a thing?! But right as I opened my mouth, a picture popped into my head. Racetrack filled my mind, and I remembered the moment when I'd asked him for forgiveness. All my anger vanished, and I shut my mouth.

"Why'd you bet that in the first place, Dice?" He sighed and looked at the cloudy sky.

"I just thought dat one a dese times he'd break. He might actually find a goil he liked. Thought maybe enough goils cryin would get at him." I should've been furious. I just felt disappointed.

"You said I was different. How?" Dice looked at me now.

"Ya so innocent. Songboid, ya actually caehed bout him. De uddah goils wanted da sex moah den him. Da thought probably nevah crossed ya mind." I felt my cheeks heat up, and I knew they were red. Dice smirked a little, but it was a sad.

"Mosta his goils last a day, maybe two. Dey cry a liddle, but move on, and lotsa times I see em hookin up wid da next guy dey see. But youse different." He sighed.

"If I let dat happen ta youse, I'd nevah fagive meself." I gave him a small smile and put my hand on his shoulder.

"Thanks, Dice. Thanks." He nodded.

"But Dice." He looked back at me.

"You can't do that anymore. Those girls have feelings to, and it's just not okay to use anyone like that." Dice stared at me, looking me in the eye.

"Ise glad I told youse, Song."

And I knew he'd never do that again.

"So, whataya gonna do bout Spot?" A small smile started to creep into my face.

"Well, now you know better, but I think Spot has a big lesson to learn." I looked over at Dice, now grinning.

"I have a plan."

* * *

"Aright, do ya think ya ready?"

Racetrack was leading Shackles down the track, walking slowly. He was really dreading this. Why had he decided to be a jockey again?! He would never be able to get on this horse, let alone ride her!

"Yeah, Paul, I think I am." Paul smiled at him.

"Good. Ya wanna try mounting her here?" Race gulped. He nodded hesitantly, tugging a little on Shackles' reigns to make her stop.

"Just a minute," he told Paul, and closed his eyes. Shackles was a good horse, and it had been a long time since his fall. He realized he was holding his breath and let it go, before taking another quick one.

"Tony?" Racetrack's eyes popped open and he gave his trainer a confident smile. He could do this. He put his foot up into the stirrup and pulled himself up, letting his reflexes take over. Before he knew it, he was in the saddle, breathing heavily, his muscles having remembered the past.

"Good, Tony, good!"

But Racetrack was paying no attention to Paul. His hands were gripping the reigns, and he could feel the sweat trickling down his back.

"Tony?" Shackles whinnied, sensing her rider's fear.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Race muttered, but he was as stiff as a board.

"Tony, if you don't want ta do this right now, we can—"

"I said I'm fine!" Race yelled, and Shackles started at the shout. He broke into a trot, and Race almost fell out of his saddle. Years of previous riding took over though, and his legs gripped Shackles' belly.

"Tony!" Racetrack could hear Paul calling him, and he tried to turn around, to look at his trainer. He squeezed his eyes open to see Paul pointing in front of him.

"Turn around!"

It was too late. They'd been running towards a wall, and Shackles abruptly stopped, and Racetrack flew over her head, into the stands.

"Tony!"

Racetrack slowly sat up, still seeing stars. He was strangely calm. Flying through the air, he realized he didn't have much to live for anyways. Before, as a newsie, he'd had his friends, and gambling. And for a short while, Songbird. Now, no girl, no friends, and with no money, no gambling, he had nothing. It didn't matter if he died.

Race sat up, realizing, he had nothing left to fear. If the horse kicked him off, he was dead. How was that worse than this? He was still alive, and as he stood, he found completely uninjured. This life was all he had left.

"Tony, are you alright?!" Racetrack didn't respond. He just grabbed the reins and jumped back onto Shackles, every fear gone.

"What are you doing?" Racetrack shrugged; this was it now.

"Racing, Sir," and he kicked Shackles into a run.

* * *

Spot sat near the front door, smoking, whilst waiting for everyone to file in. Dice had left to sell a few hours ago, but the others were due in soon.

A few minutes passed by and Notes and some of the girls strolled in, chattering. They said hi, but Spot just continued to stare at the door, waiting.

Finally she came in.

"Songboid!" She stopped in her tracks and didn't meet his eyes at first. She'd visibly stiffened, and when she finally met his eyes she had a scowl on her face. He gestured her over, and though she obeyed, she did not look happy.

"Doll, I needa talk ta youse." She just looked at him, still silent.

"I wanta talk bout 'us'." She sighed, and rolled her eyes, but nodded. He took her to his room, closed the door, and got down on one knee.

"Song, befoah ya say anything, I wanna 'pologize. I am very sorry." He looked at her, seeing how his words were affecting her.

"What for," she asked, arms crossed over her chest. Spot sighed.

"Fa treatin ya da way I did. Fa putting ya troo dat fight. I shoulda let 'im go, like ya said. And foah anytin else I did dat made ya upset." He put his very best face on, and he saw her soften.

"What are you going to do now then," Songbird asked, eyebrow raised.

"Not do dat anymoah?" Song sighed.

"Yeah, and send Race a message that he's no longer banished." Spot nodded diligently.

"A coahse." Songbird nodded back.

"Good. You can get up then." Spot shook his head.

"I'se not done. Doll, I wanted ta ask if you'll come to da dance tomorrow night at Medda's witch me. Will ya?" Song looked up towards the ceiling, and sighed. Finally she replied.

"Alright, but Spot." He looked at her serious face. Her trusting face. "This is your last chance." Spot smirked.

"Ya won't regret it, doll," and he pulled her in for a kiss.

* * *

_Soooooo? Everything starts at the dance! I'll write soon, but it prolly won't be up till after Labor Day. Sorry! With school starting up, I probably won't have a chance to write til then, but I will try, and who knows? __ Please R&R! 3 3 3_


	11. Medda's Party

**Brooklyn Turned Queen**

_By: IHeartRace9_

_Hey y'all! Like always, sorry about the wait! I haven't had any free time to write in forever, and this chapter was really important not to rush. I feel like my last few chapters have been too rushed, so I'm going to try not to do that anymore. When I finish this story, I'm going to go back and expand each of the chapters, and make them all more realistic and fix all the glitches. Anyways, lots happen in this chapter. __ And I should be getting back on a regular once a week update now that I'm fully back in school. __ Like I said, this chapter starts it all. __ ENJOY!_

_Disclaimer: I own Songbird, Notes, and Sappy in this chapter. __ Everyone else goes to Disney._

* * *

"Ow!"

I felt my hair being pulled again, and I scowled in the mirror at Sappy. She just raised her eyebrows.

"Ya gotta problem, hun?" I grimaced but said no. She was doing my hair for me, and it was known she was the best of all the girls.

"Stop movin ya mouth! Ise tryin ta put ya lipstick on!" Notes was on the opposite side of me, applying my makeup. My face felt weird with all that stuff on it, but I was hoping it would be worth it later.

"This is why I never do this," I muttered, out of the side of my mouth, and I felt a sharp jab of a bobbypin on my scalp, and I glared at Sappy as she looked smug. I kept my mouth shut after that.

"So ya really like Spot den?" My eyes shot up to see both girls looking at me. My cheeks heated up, and I was grateful for the rouge that had already been applied there. I thought quickly about what to say. Should I tell them?

"Yes. I really do. Why is that so bad?" Sappy just closed her eyes, in disappointment? But Notes looked confused and, sad?

"What is it Notes?" She looked reluctant to say, now that I had stated how I felt. But she did.

"Well, it's jus dat you was so mad at him, and I thought ya dumped 'im. Ya told me youse were done widim." I sighed heavily, as she went back to my eye shadow. I needed to convince them. I didn't want them doubting me. I didn't want to think I was betraying _them_.

"But he apologized. Really nicely. And I think he does like me. Like really likes me. And, he knows this is his last chance."

"That's all he needs," Sappy muttered, and my eyes flicked to hers. She dropped her gaze back to my hair, acting like she hadn't said it.

"What," I asked, but she didn't answer. But something about the way she said it offended me. Like I was dumb enough to not be careful. Like she was assuming I would do _whatever _Spot wanted. I knew Brooklyn didn't think I was the smartest of them all, but this was like I was the idiot.

"Sappy, give me your honest opinion of me and Spot. Be harsh, Sappy, I can take it." I said all this in a falsely sweet voice. Notes' eyes widened, and Sappy's eyebrows rose again.

"Honest opinon?" I was in for it. "Alright, dearie, ya don't belong 'ere. Ya young and naïve, and ya way ovah ya head. Spot sees dat ya so gullible dat he can practically do anytin witcha and ya'll still jus bat ya eyelashes at 'im." She stood, her voice rising, neither of us noticing the sound of the door opening behind us.

"And tanight? I don't know why ya even getting dressed, as he's just gonna rip em off aftah da party tanight!" Notes jaw dropped, and I just sat there, listening to the bitterness seep out of Sappy. I opened my mouth, but she wasn't done.

"And tomorrow, you'll wake up , and he'll have gone and told us, ya not allowed back heah, and we won't be able ta talk ta youse no more." Her voice cracked, and it was only then that I realized she wasn't jealous. She was actually afraid of losing me. She acted like nothing bothered her, like she didn't care about anything or anyone. But Sappy really was sappy. She took a deep breath, but before she could finish, someone started laughing.

Red stood in the doorway, cackling.

"Sappy, darling, we all know ya still bittah bout when Spot dumped ya. Enough wid da sob story." She stepped forward and crouched so she was eye level with me.

"But Sappy did say sometin intrestin. And true. I can't wait til tomorrow, to see da look on yoahse face." She sneered at me, and I felt my patience snap. I could not take, for one second longer, to have everyone think I was Songbird, the girl who'd started out strong, but immediately fell for the leader, who was just playing with her along, but she still believed him. I just couldn't.

"Red, daaaawli, I'm not going to be dumped by Spot, and banished from Brooklyn. I'm dumping him, after he is utterly embarrassed, and then I'm leaving here, a smile on my face!" All three girls stared at me.

"Songboid, whatchoo talkin bout?" Sappy looked perplexed. Red just started laughing.

"Honey, if dat's true, den dat was real dumb a you. Cuz I'll just be goin to tell Spot bout dis development. Then he'll jus take _me _ta da dance!" She turned to go, and I jumped out of the chair, protests from both Notes and Sappy rising. I grabbed Red by her hair and pulled her, yelling, over to the closet. I shoved her in, smiled sweetly, and slammed the door. I turned to find Sappy, key in hand.

"Thanks." A ghost of a smile appeared on her face.

"That's something a Brooklyn goil would do." I smiled back and took her hand, thinking of Red's words, and I felt for Sappy, knowing now, why she'd tried to look out for me. Her story must've been a hard one. She was still here, after all. Notes came over, and my smile weakened.

"Girls, I really am leaving." Notes looked at me, confused.

"Songboid, what ah ya plannin?" I grinned now, and leant in, only too happy to share.

* * *

"Ise headin out, Paul. See ya tomorrow."

Racetrack closed the stable door, and walked slowly down the street. He'd improved so much already. Paul was thrilled. He'd been down on his luck lately, a lot of his best jockeys getting injured, or leaving him for other employers. He was thinking of racing his newest one soon, just to see how he would do. Fearless, there was nothing Race couldn't do now.

"Race!" What?

"Race, gawd, I've been waitin foah ya forevah!" Racetrack sighed.

"Beat it, Blink. I'se aint no newsie no moah." Blink scowled at Race's word.

"Yeah, butcha still me friend." Race stopped walking and turned to look at him.

"And all de uddahs miss ya too. It's not da same witout you." Race sighed. Was this true?

"Dey really miss me?" Blink gave him a confused look.

"Just, well, Ise da one 'oo left. Aftah fightin Spot, and gettin 'im mad, and not sayin g'by, I jus figured…" Blink just looked at him.

"Race, shutup ya dumbass. Spot was a joik, as usual. Why'd dey be mad at youse? Dey really miss ya!" He paused and then grinned. "Even I'se miss ya." Race smiled, and clapped a hand on Blink's shoulder, remembering how good it felt to have a grin on your face.

"Ise missed ya too, Blink." Blink smiled weakly, eyes teary.

"So, can I tell de uddahs wheah ya are den?" Racetrack sighed again.

"I don't tink Ise quite ready foah dat, Blink. Maybe latah?" Blink crossed his arms over his chest.

"Fine!" Race threw up his hands. "My foist race is in two days. Bring em den." Blink grinned widely and nodded.

"Great! See ya den Race!" And he ran off, goal accomplished. Race shook his head, a little smile growing on his face. Back to his list. Maybe he still had friends. At least Blink. Good ole Blink.

"Blink, wait!"

* * *

"Damn, doll, don'tchoo look fine."

Spot had been waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs for a while. She walked slowly down the steps, a smile on her face. This was the first time Spot had seen her made up. Her hair was pinned up in an elaborate design, and her lips were dark and shimmery.

Her dark eye shadow made her eyes sparkle, and they were very bright as she gave him a little wave. Spot took her arm with a nod and led her out the door, still looking her over. She was wearing a long deep blue dress, with lace sleeves, and ruffles on the bottom. For the first time, Spot started to think he might enjoy tonight.

"Wheah'd ya get da dress?" Song looked at him and smiled.

"Notes loaned it to me. She said she thought it'd look better on me then her, but I think she was just being nice, because I don't have any dresses." She laughed quietly, and Spot watched her look ahead, gazing into the distance, her dimple showing. He'd never really noticed anything about her before, but she seemed so content tonight, so happy. So innocent.

"So, excited ta see Medda?" Song looked at him and shook his head.

"I'm not going to talk to her. I feel like I betrayed her. I don't think I can face her." Spot suddenly remembered Songbird, back on that stage, singing her heart out. That felt like such a long time ago. She'd been so happy then, too. He thought back to when he'd first met her, how much sass she had given him, and he rolled his eyes. She'd thought he was so cocky back then. And she wasn't afraid to let him know what she thought. What had changed her? Him? Before, she hadn't cared what people thought of her. Now, in a new place, where everyone was judging her, and she was "dating" the leader, she had to be careful what she said. Didn't want to offend anyone.

Spot cleared his throat, trying to clear his mind._ Stop thinkin dat way,_ he told himself.

"So doll, ya wanna head back ta ma room tanight, aftah da party, a coahse." He said this with a sly grin. Songbird's contented look left her face as she rolled her eyes.

"Is that all you care about Spot? I've tried to ignore what everyone says about you, and what everyone advises me not to do. But I thought you wanted to take me to a party. If that's not the case, please, tell me now." She looked at him, in all seriousness, giving him a chance to let her go. Dice's face popped into his head, and he scowled, shaking it out.

"A coahse we'se goin to da party. I was only jokin." For the briefest of moments, he thought he saw something in her face, a terrifying look, but then she was smiling.

"Good! Then let's go!" Spot sighed. Whatever.

They arrived to find Irving Hall already filled with people, and more just kept streaming in. Medda was singing, and the bar was full of underage newsies. There were some couples on the dance floor, and Songbird pulled him out.

"Come on, let's have some fun!" It was a fast song, and they whipped around, and Spot actually found himself smiling. A real smile. He quickly covered up, but not so fast that Songbird saw.

"You know, you don't have to be Mr. Tough Guy all the time. Are you not allowed to have fun?" Spot rolled his eyes.

"Ise da King a Brooklyn. I nevah has fun." He scowled playfully at her, and now she rolled her eyes.

"Alright, dis ones for all you lovely couples out dere. Kisses!" Medda started a slow song, and Spot winked at her and pulled her close. He leaned in and kissed her. But she stiffened when his lips touched hers.

"What's da mattah doll?" She looked slightly bewildered.

"Sorry, I got a little dizzy there. I think I need a drink." Spot nodded.

"I'll go find ya some watah." Song slowly raised an eyebrow.

"Water? What kind of baby are you? We're at a party, Spot!" Spot crossed his arms over his chest.

"You drink?" Songbird looked highly offended.

"Yes, Mr. Hoity-Toity, I drink! Just because I'm a girl does not mean I can't hold my alcohol!" Spot laughed in disbelief.

"What's da most ya've evah drunken?" Song turned up her nose.

"I'll have you know, I could hold more then you, that's for sure." Spot guffawed at her opinion.

"Oh you could, could youse? You wanna test dat theory?" Songbird looked a little way, but quickly nodded.

"Bring it on, Mr. King of Brooklyn!" Spot smirked. This was working out perfectly. He'd get her drunk out of her mind, and then she'd gladly do anything with him. And then tomorrow she wouldn't even remember what had happened. That'd make Dice happy.

"Spot?" Spot shook his thoughts away and smirked. He led her over to the bar.

Surprisingly, Songbird stepped forward and ordered her drink like an expert. Spot raised an eyebrow, his respect for her growing, ever so slightly. He ordered the same as she. He'd never heard of the drink before. The bartender handed them both a mug, and Songbird grinned mischievously up at him.

"You ready Spotty?" Spot gave her a look, but she just grinned and started drinking. Spot followed immediately. He didn't recognize the drink, but whatever it was, it was strong. He could taste the beer mixed in it. They both drained their cups, and Spot ordered the next round. See if she'd like this one. But she didn't hesitate as she gulped.

"Are youse playin me?" He asked, and grabbed her glass. She grinned, a little wildly, back at him.

"Never!" He finished her almost empty cup and scowled. It was exactly like his. He waved the bartender on though, determined not to get upset. By now, a small crowd had gathered. Was Spot going to be beat by a girl?

Soon, Spot was having difficulty lifting his drink, and whilst it was obvious that the alcohol was affecting Songbird, she was still going strong. This was not possible. Spot was checking every drink she had, just to make sure it was alcohol. But she was no cheat. She was having just as much as he was. And she was just lapping it up.

"Ya finished Spotty ma boy?" She bellowed as Spot paused, knowing if he drank anymore he'd pass out. She wobbled over to him and gave a kind of manic laugh.

"Look at that face! I win!" Spot tried to stand and protest, but a cheer swept through the crowd of newsies, and no one heard Spot. Songbird just grinned. Spot's eyebrows furrowed; he was angry. No one beat him like this. Especially in public. Then Songbird leaned in close to his ear.

"You still wanna do it?" The smallest of smirks tugged at Spot's lips. At least he was winning in this.

"Witchoo? Always." She giggled and pulled him towards the door.

"Let's go," she slurred. Spot followed her out, trying to walk straight. The soon to be present was going to be very interesting. He'd never done it so drunk before. He grabbed a glass of water on the way out. How was she holding it all?

The noise lessened as the door shut behind them. Apparently Songbird knew Irving Hall pretty well, as she led Spot to a back room with a convenient bed in it.

"Ya ready, doll?" Song just laughed again, and she ran to him. Her mouth crashed into his, and she gave him a passionate kiss as her hands crept under his shirt. Spot felt his skin tingle in that familiar way, and he smiled. That alcohol had really loosened her up at least. He was really going to enjoy this.

Songbird broke for air and grinned sheepishly at him. She put her hand to her forehead.

"Before we start, I think I might need some water. I'll be right back." She leaned in once more, and her fingers brushed slightly down his trousers, every touch heating Spot's skin more.

He pulled her onto the bed, unzipping her dress. Her hands started unbuttoning her pants. He kissed her, and she mumbled, "Water…" He smirked and nodded.

"Dammit, hurry it up, goil!"

"I will," she said as she got up. She grinned widely down at him.

"You better be ready when I come back. I don't like to wait," she said as she opened the door.

"Oh, I will be," Spot said, a smirk playing on his lips.

* * *

_HOW'D YOU LIKE IT!? Was everyone true to their character? Who's your favorite? What do you think is going to happen? Please R&R! Let me know! You guys rock my world! _


	12. Battle Won

**Brooklyn Turned Queen**

_Hey everyone! So, I hope you liked my last chapter __ This one was a little harder to right (especially the Spot part). So I hope you enjoy it. PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! Love you!_

* * *

I shut the door behind me and gave a heavy shudder. My god. What had I done? I was surprised how easily I was able to go into my acting mode. I hadn't acted in ages, since my teacher had told me I had no poker face. In fact, that part was true. I didn't. Whenever I played poker, I couldn't keep a straight face. But, I think there was reason to that, and not just that I wasn't able to act. Obviously. I had just pulled one over on Mr. Conlon back there. I pulled up my zipper as I walked down the hallway, going to get my "water".

I wanted to run. Run far, and never see any of these people again. Well, most of them. I wanted to forget all the time I ever spent with Spot, forget who I'd been. Start on a fresh page. That was why I was leaving. I had to go through with it.

"Songboid!" Sappy and Notes caught sight of me, where they were keeping guard around the corner.

"How's everytin?!" They both had one of my arms, and they looked me over, trying to figure out what had happened by my appearance. I shrugged. The easy part, where I wasn't being myself, where I was taking on a role, was over. Now I had to be my true self, which had gotten kind of lost in Brooklyn. I needed to find it tonight.

"I'm rather nervous," I admitted, and Notes gave me a hug. Sappy squeezed my hand.

"Hun, ya doin moah den I coulda done. When Spot screwed me ovah, I jus pretended like it din't happen." Notes shot her a look.

"Yeah, but youse stayed. Not one uddah goil's done dat." Sappy shrugged like it didn't matter, but I smiled at her.

"You were very brave, Sappy. Now it's my turn, I guess." They escorted me back to the room, and each gave me another squeeze before they ran back around the corner.

_Here goes nothing,_ I thought, and pushed open the door.

"Spotty, I'm back," I drawled, shutting the door behind me. I nearly turned around when I saw him. He was propped up on the bed with his cane, looking sexily at me, in his johns. I ran over to him, trying not to drop my façade, and he sat up, thinking I was going to kiss him.

I gave him my best punch I had. My fist hit his nose with a crunch, and he whammed backwards into the headboard. My hand hurt so much, I was sure I had done more damage it, then Spot's nose, till I saw it bleeding. I stepped back a few nervous steps, and waited for him to look at me.

"What da hell?" He glared up at me, eyes narrowed. Blood was now gushing out of his nose, but he acted as if he didn't notice. He just looked at me, the expression on his face unreadable.

But you know what. I just smiled.

"Serves you right, Conlon." Spot slowly sat up, eyebrows raised.

"Is dat so?" He asked I a quiet voice. "Why's dat?"

I crossed my arms over my chest. So he was going to play innocent. Wow.

"You were just playing me, the whole time. You made me believe that you felt something for me. And tomorrow, after you'd finished up with me in here tonight, you were going to let me know it was all just a joke." He sat there and had the gall to roll his eyes.

"Yeah, so what? It's not my fault ya fell in love wit me." My eyes hardened, and I tried to remember he was just trying rile me up.

"Love is a strong word, Spot. It's a lot like hate in that sense. Believe me, I never loved you." Spot just sneered at me.

"Whatevah ya say, doll, but ya looked pretty eagah tanight." I laughed. The alcohol gave me confidence, and I couldn't _help _but laugh, as he sat there in his underwear, still trying to keep his dignity. He still thought that tonight had been real.

"Um, dearest, tonight I fear I might've been playing you." Spot's face didn't change, but I hoped he felt that sting inside, I really did.

"How'd ya find out?" He wanted someone to blame, now did he?

"Actually, in a way, you told me, Spot. I overheard you talking about it. Real smart. But just so you know, I _never_ would've slept with you tonight. Or anytime in the near future. You'd have to show a pretty big amount of commitment to convince me. And obviously, you are quite lacking in that aspect of character." Spot leapt to his feet, anger taking control, as the brandy swept through his body.

"Dammit, why ya gotta be such a hard bitch ta bed?!" I backed up, a little scared now, not taking my eyes off him.

"Spot, truth be told, I'm more upset with myself then you," I said, trying to calm him down. "But you can't keep doing this! You cannot play with people's feelings like they don't exist!" Spot's eyes were beginning to look bloodshot.

"I can do whatevah I damn well please. I'm da King a Brooklyn! I don't give a fuck what people think of me!" I stared at him, taken aback. I hadn't expected him to react this way. What happened to cool, calm, and collected? Maybe the drinks had been a bad idea?

"Spot, you need to grow up! You'll be a newsie for what? A year maybe two more? Then what? Then you'll be alone, and no one will want to be with you." I turned and walked straight to the door.

"And I'm sorry for you, Spot Conlon," I said, and opened the door to leave.

"Wheah ya goin? Ya gonna go tell ya friends, and cry bout me?" I sighed. This was just getting embarrassing.

"No, Spot. I'm going to Queens." I shut the door behind me, just as Spot yelled, "Well good riddance!"

But I smiled. I had won that battle.

* * *

"Ise been a lousy friend, Blink, and I'm sorry."

Racetrack sat across from his best friend, slowly eating his hot dog. After he'd called out to him, to wait, Blink had agreed to spend the evening with him. First stop, Tibby's. Race was glad. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed his one-eyed buddy. He was enjoying himself for the first time in quite a while.

Blink shrugged it off.

"Nah, ya goin troo a lot right now. Ya needed some time alone. Goils ah stressful beins." Racetrack shook his head, emphatically.

"Ise ovah her, Blink." Blink had the gall to laugh! Racetrack glared at him.

"How's dat funny?" Blink just grinned.

"No ya not." Racetrack sighed.

"So, what was you racin off to when I selfishly stole youse away?" Blink rolled his eyes.

"Just Medda's dance." Race's mouth dropped in realization.

"Blink! Ise sorry! I didn't know it was tanight! You should go now!" Blink gave him a confused look, and slowly shook his head.

"Why would Ise do dat? I don't got no date." Race stared at Kid for a few moments.

"Blink, ah youse aright?" Blink looked away, and Race felt a rush of guilt. Blink had checked on him, making sure he was okay, and all Race had cared about was himself.

"Blink." He wouldn't answer. He suddenly started to cry.

"Blink, youse bettah tell me da goddamn problem right now. Did some goil cheat on youse?" Blink looked to the ceiling and laughed, but there was no joy in it.

"Racetrack, Ise sorry, but you are so blind, sometimes." Racetrack raised an eyebrow. He was confused.

"Gawd, Racetrack. I don't like goils!" Race sat there, a little stunned. He had not been expecting that to come out of his friend's mouth. It made sense, now that he thought of it, but still.

"So, did some _boy_ dump ya den?" Now Blink laughed for real.

"Finally, ma ole Racetrack is back. Race, remember how Ise said you was blind?" Racetrack slowly nodded.

"I was in love witchoo for two yeahs." Racetrack froze, not knowing what to think. Blink rolled his eyes.

"Don't worry, I got ovah youse. Dat's not what I was cryin bout." Race reached over and took Blink's hand.

"What is it den?" Blink covered his eyes with his free hand.

"I jus feel like, like Ise nevah gonna be happy. Like, no guy I like is evah gonna like me back. I aint told nobody but youse, Race." Racetrack looked his friend in the eye, and smiled.

"Blink, I promise ya. Some boy will find ya, and fall head ovah heels in love witchoo. And you will be so very happy, aright? I gotcha back." Blink nodded, tears slowing.

Laughter interrupted the moment. The bell on the door jingled across the room, and three girls walked in.

"Shit!" Racetrack ducked under the table and tried to hide behind Blink's legs.

"Racetrack, Ise told you, I got ovah youse." Racetrack hit Blink's leg.

"Shutup!" He could hear Blink chuckle.

"Just a root beer, please," Race heard a very familiar voice say.

"Don't ya think ya've had enough ta drink tanight, Song?" Notes laughed at Sappy's line. The man behind the counter handed Song her drink and she gave him a coin.

"Hilarious, Sap, but I need something to celebrate with… Blink?"

Dammit.

Race saw the bottoms of three beautiful dresses walk over to his table.

"What are you doing here all alone?" She sounded genuinely concerned.

"Just thinkin. Don't you goils look pretty, though. Wheah ya been?" Notes giggled as if they had some secret.

"Oh, just da dance." Well, apparently she hadn't been upset enough to miss the dance.

"Blink, how's Racetrack doing?" Songbird said, the mood shifting a bit.

"Um, he's fine. Actually great, yeah. His foist race is day aftah tomorrow." Race hit him again, this time harder.

"I mean—"

"That's great," Song said. "I'm glad for him. Tell him I said hi."

"Shore," Blink replied.

"Thanks. Well, I guess I'll see you around." This was turning awkward.

"Yep, see ya." The girls turned and left. The bell rang again as the door opened and shut and Race dashed out from under the table. He stuck his face on the glass and watched them walk slowly away. Songbird was decked out in a fancy dress and makeup. But that wasn't the prettiest part about her. Her face was practically glowing from the smile she had on her face. She looked radiant.

"Go aftah her, Race." Racetrack jumped at Blink's voice.

"I can't." Blink took his friend by the shoulders.

"Racetrack, dis may be ya last chance! Ya hoid her askin bout youse! Go!" Racetrack looked back out the window. They were almost to the corner.

"Ya right, he said, and ran out of Tibby's. He felt his hopes rising, that maybe just maybe, she had dumped him. And gone to the dance just to spite him. That would be the most amazing thing. He reached the corner right a few seconds behind them, and was about to follow when her heard the name Spot and stopped.

"I know, but did you see the look on his face when he realized he'd lost?!" All three girls couldn't stop laughing.

"Song, you will be remembered forevah in newsie history as da goil who beat Spot in da drinking game."

Had Song fallen for Spot's lies again?! Or could she have turned Spot around?!

Their voices faded away, as Race slowly sank to the ground. Blink was right. Girls were too stressful. He stood up, only ran his hands through his hair one time, and sighed. He was going to pretend this hadn't happened. He was going to go back to racing, and just try to forget all this. He had Blink still, right?

Gawd, he wanted to rip out his heart.

* * *

Spot made his way back to Brooklyn, avoiding all living things. He hadn't been this furious since, since Harlem's sister. He knew if he didn't get home now, he wasn't going to make it. And that just didn't happen. Spot Conlon was always in control.

"Youse home oily." Dice sat downstairs, as if he knew Spot was coming, and he'd decided to wait.

"Shut da fuck up." He started climbing the stairs and Dice followed. Damn, couldn't he just leave him alone?

"Ise takin it dat things didn't go so well?" Spot whirled, making Dice almost slam into him.

"I said, shutup!" Dice backed off a little, and Spot continued up the stairs.

"Aright aright, but Spot. We gots to do something bout Harlem, remembah? Buttafly and Cat have been gone now, foah too long. Youse gotta plan?" Spot wanted to punch his second in the face. What did he not get about the word shutup?

"Dice, Ise deal wid it tomorrow, aright?" He reached his room, and went to shut the door, but Dice put his foot in the way.

"Spot, it's Buttafly, and Alley. Youse really think deyse just doin an extra good job spyin?" Spot knew he was wrong, but he hurt too much to care.

"Move ya foot befoah it gets broken, Dice." Dice removed his foot, and sighed.

"Fine, but if you won't do anything for dem, den I will." He turned and went quickly down the stairs, and Spot shut his door.

Everything had just changed. And he _needed_ a night to sleep on it.

* * *

_Soooooo, what you think? The ball is rolling, and shtuff is gonna happen! Reviews would be freaking amazing, by the way! Let me know what you think of characters, lines, and everything plot wise. When I first started writing this I had the entire ending planned out in detail, and then I freaking lost the paper! So, like, I would make hints, and little comments and stuff during the beginning, and now, I'm like, WHAT I WAS TALKING ABOUT?! So I had to write a new ending, so, if I miss anything, I beg your forgiveness, and once I finish this, I'll go back and change it. THANX TO EVERYONE! *hearts*_


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